


How To Kill A Nightingale

by leonpaladin



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 05:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonpaladin/pseuds/leonpaladin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know what I see when those lanterns burn up?” asked Liam. He turned to Niall as the golden linen lamps started to get caught on fire. It reflected in his eyes, like it was burning deep into his soul. “I see the past getting burned, leaving my life forever, and giving me the chance to forgive…and love again.”</p><p>Or the one where Niall and Harry own a coffee shop, and Zayn is their handy-dandy, all-around cheery barista. Louis just needed a place to stay, Liam was so close to suicidal. And burning lanterns are full of metaphors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

_“That’s always seemed so ridiculous to me, that people want to be around someone because they’re pretty. It’s like picking your breakfast cereal based on color instead of taste.”_

_\- John Green_

_ November 18th. _

 

 **For once, Niall decided** not to argue further with Harry about the frothiness of the chocolate.

It had been pointed out by Harry more than once that Niall was starting to sound like Willy Wonka, but of course, Niall was having none of it. He just raised his hands up and exited the coffee shop.

For the last couple of weeks Niall started to feel a bit of frustration. The stress was getting to him of both owning a business and finishing college. There were even times when he couldn’t sleep and he had to keep a straight face during classes. Usually he was his upbeat and carefree self but since he flunked hard on midterms and found out that his boyfriend had ran off with a girl, he wasn’t the same Irish anymore.

As he turned right across Chagrin Bridge, he started to feel bad for shouting at Harry. The lad _had_ been full support ever since the breakup and he _had_ been tutoring him (thank God they both took the same course). Crisp and golden leaves crushing beneath his boots, Niall swore inwardly and turned around, making his way back to the coffee shop and hoping that Harry was still willing to forgive him.

If not, then just _damn_.

 

***

 

The cold autumn breeze welcomed Louis Tomlinson as he got off of the bus. He let his eyes drown on the rustic style of shops and houses that were properly matched by nature’s perfect array of gold, reds, oranges and browns. Taking in a deep breath and exhaling it, he wrapped his fingers around the strap of his bag pack and headed north.

After almost a year of travelling around Europe, Brookshire made him feel at home. It was just a simple town secluded in the middle of small forests and grasslands, all of that amount of nature giving that earthy vibe which Louis loved so much. And to think the town was just three hours from London.

As he walked further north, the town seem to slowly catch up with the world. Neon signs flashed on shops, Louis spotted some hardbound tomes on display behind the glass of a bookstore: books which he already read, and the smell of street food was in the air. There were a few men hanging beautiful linen lanterns on the streetlamps and Louis wondered if there was some sort of celebration.

He finally saw a coffee shop in the distance and as he drew nearer, Louis’ stomach seemed to agree with him that perhaps some lunch would be nice. Louis was about to open the door when a young lad burst out, his blonde hair in tangles. He seemed distressed, the lad, and bit frustrated.

When he entered, Louis was greeted by the warm aroma of brewed coffee and the smile of a hazel-eyed lad behind the counter. The thought of the blonde lad was quickly dispelled and Louis smiled back. It took all his strength not to flirt because, _fuck_ , the hazel-eyed guy was cute as hell.

“Hi,” the hazel-eyed lad looked like a baby deer in the headlights, the copper highlights of his hair catching the light from the low-hanging incandescent fixtures, “welcome to Mason’s. What can I get you?” He stared at Louis, waiting for him to make an order: something that Louis seemed to have forgotten in the process.

Composing himself, Louis glanced at the chalk-written beverages, all of which sounded good. “Surprise me,” he finally said and it was the hazel-eyed lad’s turn to _be_ surprised. The lad considered and pointed at the chalkboard behind him. “How about a macchiato?” he suggested.

Louis grinned. “As long as you make it delicious.”

“Can do that, actually,” said the lad. He reached out his hand. “Name’s Zayn, sir.”

The lad, Zayn, seemed impervious to flirting. Nevertheless, Louis reached for his hand and shook it. He frowned internally. There wasn’t any spark. Maybe he isn’t gay? Come to think of it, ever since the seventh grade, all of Louis’ crushes turned out to be straight and it wasn’t a surprise that this one was the same.

“I’m Louis,” he said. “And do I look like a _sir_ to you?”

Zayn chuckled and got started on the macchiato. “I meant to be polite. You _are_ a costumer.”

The bell on front door of the coffee shop rang as someone entered. Louis turned around to find the blonde lad who went out a while ago. He looked less frustrated now but there was still a frown on his face. “Zayn, is Harry still here?” the blonde asked.

“Yeah,” answered Zayn. “He’s still in the kitchen.”

The blonde nodded and disappeared into the back of the coffee shop.

“Does he work here?” asked Louis.

Zayn shook his head and placed a cover on the coffee cup. “No. He _owns_ the place.”

“Oh. And who’s Harry?”

“The manager,” said a new, deep voice.

A tall, curly haired man appeared out of the blue. Louis’ eyes widened, his breath suddenly caught up in his throat. _Damn_. His jawline could kill someone and those eyes – an evergreen forest trapped inside a snow globe. Louis had concluded: the people who work here are all gorgeous. But then the curly haired guy was staring right back at him with a smirk on his face and Louis had to withdraw his gaze, probably blushing furiously as well.

“Um, Louis?” He looked up to see Zayn handing him his coffee. Louis quickly took it and pulled out of his pocket some crumpled wad of cash. He glanced at the curly haired lad who seemed to find his embarrassment funny.

“It’s on the house,” said Zayn. “Tonight’s the start of the festival after all.”

The curly haired lad suddenly disappeared and Louis felt disappointed. But he grabbed the crumpled cash and stuffed it back into his pocket. “Festival?”

“The Festival of Lights,” answered Zayn. He leaned onto the bar and pointed outside through the window of the shop. “You see those lanterns they’re hanging? It’s supposed to bring good luck. The festival is when people from here give thanks for the blessings they had throughout the year, whether it be big or small.

“On the last day of the festival those lanterns get burned as a sign of the last days of autumn. Lighting them and then burning them represents a complete cycle: a beginning and an ending. If you look closely, those lanterns have a phoenix embroidered on them – a symbol of an endless cycle of death and rebirth.”

“Wow.” There was no way to deny that for a barista, that was deep. Louis’ eyebrow quirked up, a little smirk on his lips formed. “You sound like one of those tour guides. Were you born here?”

“Nope.” Zayn shook his head. He grabbed a towel and started wiping out the coffee drips on his workplace. “Snagged that out of a history book from the town library. I’m from Bradford.”

“Bradford?” Louis took a sip of the coffee. “How’d you end up here?”

Zayn shrugged. “A few years ago me mum took me to some auditions in London. You know, hoping I’ll get discovered and all that. But I never did. On our way home, me mum decided we’d go on a little detour to cheer ourselves up, and that’s when we passed through this town. Few years later, after community college, I found myself here, making coffee for people. I guess Brookshire never left my mind.”

“Huh,” said Louis in finality.

Zayn definitely looked pleased that he chose to stay in the town, and who wouldn’t? Brookshire was simply enchanting. All the year he spent trekking across Europe, hoping to find a place he could call his own, and nothing really snagged him. None of the bustling cities and silent countryside offered him the remedy for him to forget the haunted memories he left in Doncaster.

He just hoped this town would give him that: a place to stay.

 

***

 

Niall had been formulating the perfect wordings on how to apologize. But when Harry entered the small kitchen area, he wanted to jump inside the oven and maybe die of suffocation or be cooked like an Irish potato. His pale face flushed scarlet, like strawberries on the shortcake icing. “Haz–”

Harry held up his hand. “Ni, don’t.”

A small smile formed on Harry’s lips, and Niall knew he was forgiven. Though he shouldn’t cry, he still did, turning into a sobbing mess which Harry caught into his arms. Harry was scary when he got angry so for Niall to see that he needn’t an apology was of in need of more than a relieved sigh.

“You know I can’t stay mad at you.” Harry chuckled. “Even when you’re such an idiot sometimes…”

Niall’s fingers curled on Harry’s plaid shirt. “I know,” he whispered.

Harry pulled away and bended his knees, green eyes staring directly at Niall. “Just don’t lose it next time, yeah?” He leaned in and kissed Niall on the forehead. “I know you’re having a hard time right now, seeing the bills pile up and that jerk leaving you, but I’m here to help, ‘kay, Ni? I’m here to help you.”

On top of managing the store – which probably is in for a huge customer surge once the festival started – and studying hard in order to graduate the following year, Harry seemed to have added to his list of things to do, things to bear, the objective of pulling Niall up back on his feet. Niall was grateful, of course, but he was worried that one way or another Harry’s generosity would take a toll on him soon enough.

The idea of having Harry live with him, since his father had left him a _mansion_ in the town, had long been in Niall’s mind but he never had the courage to tell Harry. He didn’t want Harry to be indebted to him, seeing that the lad had already done so much for him, or make Harry think that he was pitying him. And he thinks it’s offensive, given the reasons, to ask someone living in a small cramped up single-floored apartment to live with him in a large house near the outskirts of the town.

They may be best friends but Niall is more than aware of that thin line between Harry’s world and his. Harry had a lot friends from his hometown that come and visit sometimes, and it had _always_ been an awkward situation whenever Harry asked him to hang out with them. They were all so down to earth and he was this orphaned rich boy struggling with his life. He didn’t belong in Harry’s world.

He couldn’t belong anywhere, for that matter.

But as Harry stared at him with his green eyes, waiting for him to agree to Harry’s terms of helping him, he still nodded. Niall told himself he’ll find a way to pay Harry back and to fit into the curly haired lad’s world.

And he meant it.

 

***

 

The sky was more or less a watercolor of shades of orange, violet, and pink. As the world slowly lost its light, the wind became colder and dried golden leaves scattered and danced on the streets and sidewalks with every gust. It was proper autumn and the streets began to fill with townspeople just off from either work or school. The lanterns were now glowing a pale yellow, hanging from lamppost on the streets.

In a town so small that almost everyone knew everyone else, a festival like this was one of those times when they meet new faces. Tourists were now bustling into inns and hotels all over town, hoping to catch start of the festival which was a grand spectacle in itself. Cars migrated into the town like birds flying south for the winter and in more than a few hours, Brookshire was livelier than it was the rest of the year.

After the evening manager, Perrie, surprisingly arrived though being sick for almost a week and Josh decided to go to work and help Zayn at the bar that evening, Harry took it upon himself to escort Niall back to his house.

“Soooo,” Harry sucked his lips into his mouth, letting out a _smack_ sound, “my sister’s staying for the weekend of the festival.”

Niall looked surprise. “Really?” But then he smugly smiled at the curly haired lad. “I thought your family has disgraced you?” Niall’s eyes trailed away. “Seeing that you decided to elope with the likes of me––OW! What the fuck, Haz?!”

Harry punched him on the shoulder, supposedly to be playful but it ended up hurting really bad. “Enough with the moping tone for today, Niall.” He ruffled Niall’s blonde hair, earning him a growl. “And please,” Harry rolled his eyes, “ _I_ didn’t elope with you – _you_ practically hugged my leg, begging me to be your best friend.”

“Ouch,” Niall pouted, “that _really_ hurt, Hazza.”

 

The old summer house of the Horans was on a large lot by the outskirts of town, overlooking a small forest and rolling green pastures. It was like one of those colonial houses in New Orleans with large Greek columns, and in the distance, there was a tiny silhouette of the highest peaks in London.

Niall, though he could afford to, didn’t even bother with a gardener so vines crept upon the low brick and iron fences that surrounded the property, bushes and brambles have been left unkempt, and the rest of the backyard garden was left for nature to take its course. The large rowan tree by the side of the house was still standing, though had left a considerable amount of leaves to be swept at its roots.

The house though was a different matter. Even as an entire grassy forest grew around it, Niall had maintained the house even before he had inherited it. It had a lot of memory and letting it fall into disrepair was something Niall would not allow.

They stopped by the front door as Niall fetched the keys from his pocket, after which they made their way inside, Harry hanging his overcoat on the coat hanger which he desperately tried to save and repair four summers ago.

Footsteps echoing through the old house, Niall headed towards the first room of the summer home: a large open space which used to be where the receiving room was. But given that the house had no more guest left to receive except during Christmas when Niall’s brother and his family, along with the staff of the coffee house, all stay for dinner, it became only a sliver of its once grandeur with the furniture pushed against the walls and boxes of unmarked belongings starting to pile up. It led to the staircase which forked to the left and right; the left leading to the bedrooms and path to the attic, and the right leading to more guest rooms and the small study.

Harry made his way through the dining room and to the kitchen. As he waited for Niall to be done with his ministrations – which Harry so quoted to be “girly” – and head back downstairs, he went on to heat up some water for tea.

As he let the water go and boil, Harry rummaged Niall’s well-stuffed fridge and pulled out the ingredients for a more than usual sandwich. Just as he was done making the sandwich, the water was already boiling (though if he just sat and waited, it would seem like forever) and he went to drag out of the cabinets Niall’s hidden stash of flavored tea.

Cup of tea in one hand and the half-eaten sandwich in the other, Harry found himself looking at the paintings in the living room which he had seen ever since Niall became his friend. The one he liked most of all was a portrait of Niall and his brother, Greg, when they were little. Niall looked like a cute little marshmallow that had been placed over a fire because his then brown hair looked like the toasted part. Harry never told Niall about that though – in fact, he never talked to Niall about the paintings _ever_.

Perhaps that was because Niall’s mother, Maura, made most of them. When Harry met her, she was already bedridden, and though tubes were stuck into her wrists and hands, Maura was just as sunny as her son – balls of sunshine, they were. She would’ve screamed at Niall given the state of the garden…if cancer wasn’t such a bitch.

“Haz?”

As soon as he heard Niall’s voice coming down from the staircase, Harry quickly exited the living room, just so he wouldn’t be caught staring at the paintings which would lead to some explanation to _why_ he kept looking at them. Any further attempt after that would lead to either Niall crying or…well, that’s about it: just Niall crying.

“In here!” shouted Harry as he scurried into the kitchen.

Niall appeared through the arc just as Harry sat down. The curly haired lad grinned at Niall but the blonde one crossed his arms over his chest. “You were in the living room, weren’t you, Haz?”

“I wasn’t–”

“Yes, you were, Harry Styles,” insisted Niall.

“I wasn’t!” said Harry exasperatedly.

Niall frowned. “It’s okay, Haz.”

Harry set down his cup on the table. “Is it?”

Niall shrugged and pulled out a teabag from his stash box. “It’s been three years, Harry.” He poured some water from the kettle and sat down beside Harry. “I’m fine. Three years has been a long enough time for me to accept it. And the acceptance came by years ago…”

“The bonfires finally got you?” asked Harry.

“Somewhat,” replied Niall. He glanced down at his steeping tea. “The burning lantern is just a metaphor.”

Harry nodded, his sandwich laid on table because he had suddenly lost his appetite. “So metaphor-wise…” He looked at Niall and smiled. “Does that mean you’re my date tonight?”

 

***

 

By nine in the evening, Niall had decided, by Harry’s persuasion, not to be so tyrannical and let the staff come with them, effectively closing the store until the next day. Harry had so kindly pointed out that slave labor did not exist anymore, keeping his reputation as Niall’s better half as owner of the coffee shop – Niall was always viewed as the grumpy cat.

It had always been a unanimous decision.

“Reckon you two will be stayin’ up late?” said Josh. Even after working for more than two years at the coffee shop, he still thought Niall and Harry were a couple – two people in complete denial of their feelings. But who could blame him? After all, sometimes his two employers were a bit handsy on each other.

Zayn chuckled. “Cut it out, dude!”

 

It was a few minutes before ten that the ceremony for the festival did start. Before then, Niall was pulling Harry to every food stall they could find, Zayn was taking Perrie for a leisure walk, and Josh was switching back and forth between the two pairs.

Niall remembered those movies and books stashed away in the attic that he used to watch with his brother when they were little. The townspeople would gather in the town square, eager and full of conviction for the burning not of lanterns but of witches. He remembered those theatrical screams and how he would curl up on his brother’s chest, hoping the burning witches won’t jump out of the projected film on the attic wall.

“Medieval,”

The train of thought in Niall’s mind abruptly stopped and he turned his head to Harry who was smiling at him. “That’s the thing you’ve been thinking about,” he continued. “You’ve told me that word a million times ever since the first time we watched the lighting of the lanterns.”

Harry grabbed Niall by the shoulder and pulled him closer, the blonde resting his head on Harry’s chest. They watched as the people condensed into a compacted state, surrounding the make-shift stage which bore a single flying lantern. Almost everyone else had flying lanterns of their own and sure enough, Zayn appeared beside them carrying two.

“You said he’d confess by now,” whispered Niall to Harry after he took one of the lanterns from Zayn. “And he hasn’t. Pay up, curly.”

“I didn’t say at the _start_ of the festival, I said _during_ the festival,” replied Harry. “Zayn’s taking his time. You can’t just burst into it and tell your evening manager that you’re in love with her…”

Niall chuckled. “Look at the two of us, plotting our employees’ happily ever after.”

“Zayn deserves one,” said Harry. “He’s always underappreciated.”

The plaza roared with thunderous claps as the mayor and her husband headed up the stage. She flashed a smile to the crowd, gracefully walking up to the microphone at the center, briefly staring at the crowd and waiting for them to fall into silence before smiling again, sighing deeply and excitedly, and then greeting “Welcome!” in an exuberant tone.

A sense of excitement and enchantment fell upon the air as the moon gazed lowly on the horizon, stars scattered across the pitch black sky like frozen diamonds, and the crisp, chilly autumn wind breezed through the crowd.

The mayor’s speech was brief, highlighting the symbol of the occasion, and she proceeded to the lighting of the lantern. Her husband stood up, carrying a small burning stick with him. The mayor stared at the crowd with another gleaming smile and lighted the lantern. “May these lights be your guide through your darkest nights.”

The lantern slowly floated upwards to the sky, the phoenix embroidery burning with the light of the fire inside, looking alive and looking eternal. Following suit, the crowd lighted their lanterns as well, letting them dance up in a slow waltz towards the sky.

Niall let go of his and Harry’s, unbeknown to him what fate the lantern has in store. For across the town, in one of the inns, a young man was staring from his room’s window, watching the lanterns’ brilliant display, oblivious to the fact that one of those lanterns was held by the person he once loved the most in the world.

 

***

 

_ November 19th. _

 

Harry has been staring at the early morning riser from the confines of his small kitchen. Seated by the window, the brunette traveler from yesterday was back at the shop for breakfast just like the rest of the people around him in the other seats.

He sat alone and it was starting to make it hard for Harry to keep himself hidden and just stare at the lean, tanned beauty that was eating his French toast with utter finesse. Harry knew the brunette had his eyes on Zayn but then again, the brunette seemed quite flustered upon seeing him yesterday and that gave Harry hope.

“His name’s Louis,” Zayn suddenly appeared out of nowhere, carrying teacups and saucers, “and instead of just gawking at him until he leaves, maybe you should go and have a little chat.”

Harry blushed, heading back to the stove, pretending to cook something. Zayn rolled his eyes and placed the cups on his workplace. He grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him back to the kitchen door.

“You are much reasonable than Niall – _don’t_ tell him I said that – but you’re scary as fuck when you’re angry.” Zayn sighed. “But I’ll take the risk to tell you: I know you’ll tell me that you’re too busy taking care of Niall, that you have his welfare on your schedule, but you _really_ need to have someone yourself, Haz. And I think there’s no harm in trying so…”

Zayn pushed him out of the kitchen, making Harry stumble outwards, landing on his chest near the table where Louis was eating. The brunette jumped in surprise, almost spilling his cup of tea. Harry scrambled to get up, blushing, and brushed off his shirt.

Louis was staring at him, wide-eyed. “A-Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just clumsy, I guess.” Harry laughed nervously. “Whoops…”

They stared at each other in silence – as if it was even a staring contest – before the door chimed and Niall came in. The blonde paused on his tracks, catching sight of both Harry and Louis looking away from each other with their cheeks stained pink.

“Hazza,” called Niall. “I have to show you something.”

Harry followed silently into the small cramped up space by the kitchen. Niall placed his keys on the messy worktable, pulling his laptop out his bag after pushing to the sides the piles of paper on the table. The pencil holder suddenly crashed to the floor, scattering the array of sharpened lead and colored pencils. Niall cursed and he bent down to pick them up.

When Harry closed the door behind him, Niall took no chance and asked abruptly, “Do you like him?”

“H-Huh?! What?!” Harry stuttered.

Niall looked at him calmly. “Do you like him, Haz?”

Unable to answer, Harry glanced down at the floor. His heart was racing and he could hardly breathe. That’s impossible… He’s only seen him twice but what’s this strange thing he’s feeling inside his chest? It’s making him weak on the knees, making him feel butterflies in his stomach, fluttering like they want to escape except he was keeping them in. Harry knew what love felt like – but is this love already? He’s not a hopeless romantic and he’s terrible at romance itself. This isn’t love, Harry told himself. He’s not in love. Louis was just pretty and _this feeling_ was just an infatuation!

“No,” lied Harry.

“Okay,” Niall nodded nonchalantly. He retrieved his house keys from his jacket’s pocket and placed them on the table. “All I’m saying, Haz, is that if you think I’ll get mad that you’ll shift your attention from my moping self to another being who is quite frankly so much elegant than I am, I won’t.”

Niall shrugged off his jacket. He turned back to Harry and gave him a small smile. “I’m strenuous to bother yourself with. Another person, much likely him, is somewhat more…rewarding.”

Harry frowned. “Are you saying that because you’re my best friend and I devote a huge amount of time with you, and yet we don’t have sex that I should be better off bestowing my effort to someone more rewarding, in this case, sex being the incentive?”

Niall managed to dismiss his surprise and shook his head. “It’s not about the fuck, Haz…” He sighed, kissing Harry’s left cheek before heading outside the small cramped office. “You need someone to share your heart with. Not me. I’m terrible at that.”

But before Harry could even reply, the entire universe seemed to have conspired to make the next moment to happen. Call it a tragedy or some kind of sick, fucked up twist of fate, but there was no denying the short loud gasp that escaped Niall’s lips when the coffee shop door rang and a young man stepped inside.

Their eyes met – Niall’s blue to the young man’s brown – but as Niall’s registered shock, the young man’s pupils didn’t even dilate but instead sported a passive stare, almost emotionless and void of all empathy for the world revolving around him.

Much to both Niall’s and the lad’s silence, Harry’s throat rumbled with a low growl. He recognized the lad as soon as he entered, and how could he not? Pictures of him were burned in the backyard of the Horan summer house three years ago but still Harry couldn’t figure why he hated him. He had seen him in pictures, heard Niall’s stories about him, but he’s never met him in person until now. But why does he have this sudden urge to just rip him into pieces?

Amidst the memories of Niall’s short sobs and painful expressions while telling his past heartbreak that slowly filled Harry’s head, he doesn’t know why he wanted keep Niall away from this guy. He just need to and there was no logical explanation to why that was so.

Or perhaps maybe there was.

Like an overprotective hound that he was, Harry growled again. But the young lad looked at them passively and turned to Zayn on the counter who seemed to be feeling the tension between his customer and his bosses.

“One cappuccino, please,” said the lad. Then he turned his head back to Harry and Niall. “Hello, Nialler.”

“Liam…” whispered Niall.


	2. Two

_“Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for what it is it wants. The way it starts and stops.”_

_\- Poe (Anne Decatur Danielewski)_

_ (still) November 19th. _

 

 **The heater was on** but the air felt cold – frigid even. The hair on Niall’s arms prickled as if electricity had zapped through them in a light current. Liam’s cold eyes bore on him while his lips wore a smug smile. He’s still devilishly handsome, as always, but Niall could see that Liam’s irises lacked something that made them beautiful before…

It’s as if he was staring through a soulless shell.

After another growl reverberated in Harry’s throat, Niall decided that something will be inevitable. He was about to take a step forward when Zayn interjected, handing Liam his cup of coffee. “Your cappuccino…sir,” said Zayn quietly.

“Thank you,” purred Liam.

It was another quick glance, coupled with a smug expression, and then Liam was out the store in a dash. Like a vapor he disappeared and like the wake of a raging storm, the café was left silent.

“That fucking asshole!” hissed Harry.

And then, all of the sudden, Niall scrambled to go after him but Harry grabbed him by the arm. The curly haired lad’s eyes burned into Niall’s, questioning him for the reasons why he thought going after Liam was a good idea.

Niall returned his gaze with an apologetic smile.

“He’s not worth it, Niall,” said Harry.

“I won’t get hurt,” assured Niall. “I promise.”

Harry let Niall go, though hesitantly. He knew something was up with Liam’s unscheduled appearance and he wasn’t going to let the bastard ruin his best friend’s life again. Niall smiled gratefully and rushed out of the shop.

 _He’s not worth it_ , whispered Harry once more in his head.

 

***

 

The morning sun was a ball of warmth amongst the grey autumn clouds that gathered up in the sky, heating the crispy, cold air that blew through the streets, swaying the phoenix lanterns and making the dried up leaves dance in nature’s vernal pirouette. As the cold wind blasted onto his flushed cheeks, Niall wrapped his scarf around his neck, cocooning himself as he ran faster to keep up with the man in the leather jacket – his past whom he couldn’t seem to let go.

“Liam!” Niall shouted at the top of his lungs.

It was just a leap of faith, a small glint of hoping, in Niall’s heart but Liam did turn around. Niall slowed down, his elevated heart rate dropping as he caught his breath. He was at a loss of words at first but managed to huff out phrases. “Can…can…we talk?” asked Niall.

Liam crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m listening.”

“Why are you here?”

“I should ask the same thing,” hissed Liam. “Why are _you_ here?”

“I live here,” explained Niall. “My parents had a summer home here.”

Liam’s eyes grew colder, of hatred perhaps or even bitterness. He took a sip of his coffee and threw it into the trash bin by the street. “Give my compliments to your barista,” he said. “At least one person got something right with me.”

“Stop it!” Niall glared at Liam. He didn’t know why he got mad – he just did. It was painful for Niall to let go but seeing Liam again was more unbearable than losing him. But then it slipped out: The reason for his sudden outburst of anger tumbled from his tongue with the guiltiest of tones. “Don’t use that sarcasm on me! You know why I had to do that.”

Niall suddenly gasped. Liam pulled him into an alleyway and pushed him against the brick wall. Liam’s eyes were now smoldering, his teeth gritted, and the space between their faces grew smaller and smaller. “Know? _Know_?! I _don’t_ know, Niall!” he growled. “I don’t know _why_ you had to do that to me – me! The person who was willing to give everything up just for you! And now you’re asking me for an explanation as to why I’m here? No–you don’t deserve my explanation!”

Hands gripping tighter around Niall’s arms, tears fell down Liam’s cheeks. “You think I’m your dog, Niall? D-Do you think I’m just a _stupid_ dog who doesn’t know anything but to rut? When _you_ left me because your _fucking_ mother told you so, y-you killed me inside! What you see now is a hollow corpse… A hollow corpse that you made. So. Fuck. You.”

“I’m sorry!” Niall whimpered. He definitely felt guilt surging through his blood, through his system. Liam’s voice shouting pleads echoed in his head, memories that haunted him even more now that Liam was here again. “I-I didn’t know what to do–”

“STOP LYING TO ME!” shouted Liam, eyes burning and red from crying. “Even now you’re still a terrible liar.”

“I still love you…” whispered Niall. That wasn’t a lie though.

Liam was taken aback for a moment before recovering from Niall’s words, letting go of the lad in his grasp and causing Niall slide down onto the dirt-crusted ground. He knelt down, eyes still burning but of a more sinister nature. Liam cupped Niall’s chin, staring him straight into his eyes. “Liar,” he bitterly uttered. “You don’t love me. If you did, we’d still be together. But we’re not.”

Niall tried to grab hold of him but Liam quickly stood up. “Liam, please…”

The taller lad pulled Niall up and pushed him against the wall once more. Now their lips were locked, Liam forcefully parting Niall’s lips and began to completely dominate him, pushing him harder against the wall and then sucking a love bite on Niall’s neck, their erections grinding each other in lust as they lip-locked before Liam pulled away, teeth tugging Niall’s lower lip all the while. He leaned down to Niall’s ear, a smirk forming on his lips. “Consider that payment.”

Niall was left speechless but his eyes asked the question.

“You want to know why I’m here?” said Liam. “I’m here to take away your coffee shop – your life’s worth and accomplishment. Just like how you left me feeling worthless, I’ll make sure you’ll have nothing left but your own taste of suffering.”

With that, Liam walked away, coat flapping as they were caught in the autumn morning breeze, like a lonesome man with nothing to treasure in the world. He left Niall standing in a daze before the blonde staggered a bit and composed himself, hoping Harry wouldn’t notice the lip-shaped bruise on his neck.

 

***

 

_ November 20th. _

 

It was already seven by the time Niall woke up and realized that it was Saturday morning. He had fallen asleep on the couch, photographs were scattered beneath his feet: a secret stash that only he knew of, and which he had kept from his mother and, subsequently, Harry. Niall’s hair was a mess and his eyes hurt, only to remember that he had been crying the previous night.

Several pictures were scrunched up in his fingers and he flattened them out, revealing bright smiles from two young boys whose hands were intertwined. Niall looked younger in those photographs, and Liam looked happier.

During the time that had passed as Niall stared into the eyes of the smiles of two lovers frozen in time, tears started to fall from his eyes. Was it really his fault? He had to choose between his mother and Liam – his _dying_ selfish mother or his _living_ selfless boyfriend. Niall chose his mother, of course. Blood was thicker than water. He made the mistake of thinking Liam would understand; but after all the years Liam had spent enduring Maura’s constant antagonism towards him, Niall leaving him was the last straw.

Liam snapped and their happily ever after fell short of becoming a reality.

But when he saw Liam the previous morning, something jumped inside of him. His heart leapt – either for joy or fear – and something tingled in his skin, as if he was still mesmerized by the once selfless boy who was now, Niall thought, an embodiment of pure revenge. Whether or not he was hoping that Liam would so easily take him back with open arms, Niall couldn’t say. But the words _did_ slip through his lips: of how he still loved Liam, how he still craved for the heat of his touch and the wonder-striking feeling when he kissed him.

And this, the mess he had made trying to reminisce the past through old photographs, was further proof that Liam was still irrevocably latched onto his heart.

In his current state, Niall wasn’t prepared when there came a knock on the door and Harry slipped into the wide living room hall. Harry stopped in his tracks upon seeing the photos surrounding Niall and his best friend’s bloodshot eyes. The response from Harry was swift. His expression darkened and he knelt beside Niall.

“You told me you and that fucking bastard _just talked_ ,” said Harry in a low voice, his teeth almost gritting. “Obviously he _did_ something. What did he do?”

“Nothing, Haz,” Niall croaked.

Harry’s expression softened. “Niall, we agreed that I’m here to help. If that bastard’s been bullying you, we can report him to the police or–”

“NO!” Niall quickly said.

“Why are you defending him? If he’s done something, you should at least tell me. Unless–” Harry glanced at Niall’s expression. He saw it: that broken look that says you can’t because– “You’re still in love with him!” Harry’s eyes widened. He stood up and ran his fingers through his curly hair. “Seriously, Niall?!” the snarl flared up through Harry’s gritting teeth, “You still _hope_ that you two would get back together?!”

Niall looked away, scared to tell Harry that he was right – that he still _did_ hope that they’d be getting back together. The feeling, the crave, was consuming him since last night and blood still rose to his cheeks whenever he remembered Liam’s wet tongue mingling with his. He was still smitten and he was afraid Harry would give up on him, his best friend leave him, because he couldn’t get over a man he chose to let go in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” Niall whimpered.

Harry cringed and it hurt Niall to see it. The curly haired lad rubbed his hand over his face then through his hair as he walked and stared out the window. Harry sighed, his broad shoulders drooped and his left hand massaged the back of his neck. He turned around with a more pleasant, calmer expression. “What did he do, Niall? What did he say? I won’t get angry again, I promise. Just tell me.”

“He kissed me,” whispered Niall, “and…”

Harry’s expression faltered for a moment. “And?”

Niall bit his lip. _And I liked it. I wanted it_. But he can’t tell Harry that. “He said he’s here for the coffee shop,” Niall said instead.

“Coffee shop?” Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “What about the coffee shop?”

“I don’t know,” said Niall. “But it didn’t sound nice.”

“Did he mean he was going to take away the shop?”

Niall’s chest constricted. “He didn’t say…” That was a lie.

Harry knelt down in front of him, the curly haired lad’s fingers tracing lightly over Niall’s palms as he took them into his hands. Niall felt like a guilty man hiding from a crime and his best friend’s eyes were both worried and restless. “You don’t have to lie to me, Ni,” Harry’s deep voice rumbled yet it was somehow soothing.

But Niall shook his head, his subconscious and the inner god in him were both in agreement on scolding him. What was he doing? Why was he lying about – no, not about – _for_ Liam? Suddenly he felt sick of himself – so needy and helpless. He was pathetic, cited his subconscious, and Niall couldn’t agree more. _Pathetic…pathetic…pathetic!_

Before Harry could pursue the course of his mellow interrogation, Niall crawled and settled onto Harry’s chest, arms snaking around his best friend’s torso and wrapping himself all over like a koala. It was more for self-defense rather than for comfort. He wanted Harry to stop talking for a while, let the topic slip away until they won’t talk about it anymore. When Harry didn’t insist on the Liam business further, Niall cuddled tighter around Harry and the curly haired lad hummed appreciatively, burying his nose into Niall’s blonde-slash-brunette hair.

“Let’s have dinner later,” Harry finally said after a minute or so.

Niall smiled. “Yeah, okay.”

 

***

 

Morning until noon at the coffee shop was as bustling as ever. Zayn had cited to Harry upon his and Niall’s arrival that Louis came for an early breakfast, wiggling his eyebrows and teasing Harry about how Louis asked about him and how the lad was disappointed to find out that Harry still hasn’t arrived.

“Jeez, Zee, will you drop it already?” Harry huffed frustratingly as he dashed off to finish the lunch order he was cooking. If the order doesn’t taste nice, it’s all _Zayn’s_ fault, thought Harry. The curly haired lad’s mind was so busy at getting frustrated that he didn’t notice Niall slipping into the cramped kitchen until their hips bumped into each other.

Harry groaned. “I swear to whatever deity that is out there, if you make one joke about Lou–”

“I’m not,” answered Niall sincerely. “Though there is no denying the fact that you like him, Harold. Just don’t let Zaynie affect you so much.” He handed to Harry a bunch of papers. “Now, sign those. Zayn told me deliveries came this morning before we arrived.”

Before he could exit the kitchen, Niall turned around once more, a thought in his head suddenly popped out of nowhere. “I almost forgot. What are our plans for Saturday? The mayor’s assistant had been asking on whether or not we’ll be joining the bazaar like last year.”

“Tell Kyle we’ll think about it,” replied Harry. “We’re already busy as hell here, Ni.”

“Alright,” Niall nodded and then he grinned, “I’ll tell him to meet me after our dinner tonight.”

Harry raised his eyebrow. “Where do you wanna go anyway?”

“Sheuzer’s Pasta?” suggested Niall. “I think they’re having their buffet again for the festival.”

“Pasta again, it is,” chuckled Harry.

Niall raised his eyebrow. “You like pasta, Mr. Dopey-pants.” He held an invisible checklist within his palm and started scribbling imaginarily in thin air. “Fettuccini, guacamole and chicken pesto, and goat cheese. That seems to be the most exotic thing I’ve ever tasted.” Niall grinned cheekily. “Did I get that right, Mr. Dopey-pants?”

Breezing through the kitchen to flip the glazing beef on the skillet, Harry shrugged, offering his lips with a quick taste of the bubbling sauce that was mingling with the meat by his spoon. “Actually it’s just chicken pesto,” then he laughed, “where the hell did you get the guacamole? That’ll taste weird!”

Skin flushed pink, Niall huffed. “You don’t have to insult me, you twat!”

 

The afternoon went on without any intrusions – or any sight of Liam for that matter. People went in and out of the shop like busy bees in a tight schedule; scarfs cocooning their necks from the dropping temperatures outside, coffees and teas steam billowing in dense formation of opaque free-form mini clouds as costumers travel back and forth from tables. While the sky outside has turned grey, the inside of the shop was tinted orange from the fixtures on the ceiling, giving off that sense of warmth and seclusion from the bitter, freezing air that was breezing through the streets.

Zayn was working hand in hand with Josh as they functioned like robots, no breaks and no sign of exhaustion, concocting macchiato and espressos. Perrie, with the occasional help from Niall, was managing the counter, orders flowing like there was shortage of coffee in the town. Harry was in his own space, firing off late afternoon lunches for people – most of them tourists – whose stomachs now grumbled from all the sightseeing that morning. Tongues of flame licked the underside of his pans, sauces bubbled, food seared and flambéed; the orders came flying back to the counters piping hot and, with a grin, Harry winked at Niall after the blonde commented on how he seemed “inspired” by someone.

“Don’t forget about dinner,” reminded Niall, turning for a few seconds to hand over a customer’s coffee then back to Harry, “or that we’re meeting the mayor. She’s very fond of you so I expect you’ll do the talking.”

Harry handed to Perrie a plate of risotto, smirking at Niall. “I am quite charming, aren’t I?”

Niall handed the receipt and change to the costumer in front of him. He glared at Harry who just chuckled lowly before returning to the kitchen. “Self-absorbed git,” mumbled Niall, internally giggling.

 

***

Kyle, the mayor’s assistant, was standing outside Sheuzer’s by the time Niall and Harry arrived. He adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses and cleared his throat before beaming down a smile on the people in front of him. “Good evening,” he greeted, fingers fumbling with the edge of his scarf and obviously nervous.

“Here on a date as well?” asked Harry jubilantly.

“The mayor’s inside,” replied Kyle. “After Niall called, I told her that you were having dinner here so she decided to have dinner with the two of you, make the night shorter and more convenient.”

Sheuzer’s Pasta House was an old mill which was renovated and restored. Hanging on the aged red-bricked walls were sepia-colored photographs of workers from the past in their suspenders, ladies in corsets and gowns, and more recent pictures of steampunk-costumed individuals.

Wooden chairs and tables promenaded the large ballroom-like hall in rows, each table sporting red tablecloths with plaid design, and salt and pepper shakers. From above were the low-hanging light fixtures, dangling from the ceiling; the wall-bound pillars also had Victorian lamps emitting an eerie glow that were somehow adding to the fuzzy vibe of the place.

In one of the smaller tables sat the mayor and her husband. The husband, towering almost everyone else in the room except for Harry, was busy chatting with the man in the other table, presumably having known each other. When the mayor saw Niall and Harry trailing behind Kyle, her face lit up and raised her hand.

“Mr. Horan and Mr. Styles,” she stood up, her smile almost blinding and hand reached out towards her guests in the giddiest manner, “it’s so nice to finally talk to you again. Busy schedules too, yes?” They all sat down, the mayor continuing her talking as her husband shook both Niall’s and Harry’s hands. “When Kyle told me that you were having dinner here, I thought: why not do the meeting there as well?”

A waiter made his way towards them and asked for their orders; before Niall could state anything, the mayor was already asking for the special that night. The waiter scurried away and the mayor returned her attention to the two lads opposite her on the table; Niall tried to hide the annoyance of not getting to order what he came for.

“Business,” the mayor clasped her hands together, her happy disposition was almost eccentric, “business, business, business. I hope things are doing well back at the coffee shop? I haven’t been there in a while but I make sure Kyle gets me one of your espressos.”

Niall glanced at Harry, signaling his mediating powers to make due, turn this conversation around before it becomes an evening of too much self-appreciation. “Zayn had told me,” answered Harry, smiling. “He comes every afternoon, ordering…” Harry shifted his stare to Kyle, “Americano espresso, right?” Then he chuckled turning back to the mayor. “Zee said that since Kyle’s there every day, he’s our best costumer!”

The mayor looked impressed, laughing and rubbing her husband’s shoulder. “Does that mean he’ll get a discount next time?”

“Well,” Harry smirked, “I guess that depends on Mr. Manager here.” He nudged Niall’s shoulder with his elbow. “He’s a grumpy cat most of the time but he’s got a sweet spot somewhere in his gloomy exterior. I’ll see what I can do with that discount.”

Niall just rolled his eyes, stomach rumbling.

 

The food arrived a few minutes later; a large platter of sirloin was served, its glazed coating reflecting the low-hanging light, and was followed by per person servings of Italian spaghetti with croutons. As they feasted on the food, the mayor and Harry continued to discuss hands-on the bazaar to be held that Monday. Niall occasionally gave his opinions on some details, and the mayor’s husband decided to chat with the people on the next table once again.

After so much of getting nods and grunts from Niall, they have agreed to have a stall at the bazaar on Monday (“I’ll be the first one in line!” said the mayor). Hoping that the discussion about the bazaar wouldn’t end so quickly, fearing the topic returning to the rather boring and obsolete tale of the mayor’s everyday life as a public servant, Niall finished the pale pasta on his plate and scanned the building. His eyes found an interesting figure: Louis sitting on the distant table with a woman who looked like… Niall’s eyes widened and then he grinned.

Gemma Styles appeared to have already arrived and was productively talking with Harry’s new crush – something that didn’t happen in what seemed like a millennia. The two appeared to be discussing fervently, gleefully exchanging thoughts and opinions by the way their hands gestured as they took a few nibbles of their dinner. They seem to be discussing the book Gemma had on her side of the table.

“…to excuse me for this evening,” rang in Niall’s ears and he returned his attention to the conversation between Harry and the mayor. “I still have to talk to an investor,” stated the mayor excitedly. “Charming young bloke from London, from Oxford it seems.”

“An investor?” Niall couldn’t help but join in. It’s been a while since someone else had taken notice of their small sleepy town. “What kind of business does he have?”

The mayor frowned. “Good question. He has yet to tell me what it is.”

With the mystery investor – the mayor insisting on his identity being a surprise – still lingering in his mind, Niall along with Harry stood up and bid farewell to the mayor and her husband. Kyle stood up as well, as if by protocol, and escorted them through the tables and towards the door. Niall was about to tell Harry about his sister’s presence in the nearby table but then the main door opened, a male figure entered with a lady on one side of his arm.

“ _Fuck_ ,” exhaled Niall, voice wanting to break.

Liam strode along with his somewhat date who was busy being mesmerized by the restaurant. There was a smart smirk on his lips upon seeing Niall’s surprised expression and Harry’s murderous glare at him. The woman with him seemed to have felt a sudden tension and turned her attention to the two figures standing in their way.

“Good evening, Mr. Horan,” said Liam, and then nodded towards Harry, “and Mr. Styles. What a coincidence… It appears this town is so small we’ll be bumping into each other more often from now on.”

“Don’t count on it,” hissed Harry. “I’ll make sure we won’t.”

But Liam ignored Harry’s controlled rage and focused his naughty, swaggering closed-lip smile on Niall who was stymied, noting how the blonde’s closed fists were apparently trembling. “May I introduce my ‘plus one’ tonight?” The woman beside him gave Liam a warning glance but he ignored that as well. “This is Sophia,” a short pause, “my girlfriend.”

Time seemed to have stopped.

Perhaps it was a good thing Gemma spotted them already before Harry could’ve caused a scene and had Liam shredded into pieces. Louis was trailing behind her, oblivious to the tension that filled the air. Harry’s older sister stepped in between them with a smile directed to her little brother, somehow dissipating Harry’s rage a bit.

She then turned towards Liam. “I believe we haven’t been introduced.”

“Where are my manners?” Liam held out his hand. “Liam Payne.”

Gemma shook his hand. “Gemma Styles,” she said curtly, unfaltering. “And from what I have heard, this must be…Sophia, am I correct?” After she had shook Sophia’s hand, Gemma returned to Liam. “May I excuse the state of my little brother, and excuse ourselves altogether?” She gestured to Niall and Harry. “They’ve been expecting me to arrive this evening and I think,” her voice was at ease, almost professional in tone, “perhaps this wouldn’t be the best time to stay and chat. My brother and I have a lot to discuss – personally and otherwise.”

“Understandable,” replied Liam, nodding. “Well, good evening, Gemma.”

As Liam and Sophia had left, Gemma took hold of Harry’s arm, shooting him off with a glower. “ _Behave_ ,” she said lowly. “Let’s get out of here before you murder someone.”

 

Moon still and frozen in its pale beauty, hanging string-less in the blackish and starless sky, the seemingly never-ending street encompassing a few blocks on the tree-filled avenue was silent and had only the brittle air breezing softly to sing silently the ode of the dusk of autumn and the dawn of winter.

But Harry’s deep rage was nowhere near extinguished. “What the _hell_ was that for?!” he growled, pissed off by his sister. “I could’ve given that asshole a piece of my mind!”

Gemma crossed her arms over her chest, staring steadfastly at the taller physique of her younger brother. While the sound of muffled conversations could be heard from inside the restaurant, Gemma wasted no time to drag Harry out of an imminent fistfight. “A piece of your mind given and then what?” She glanced at Niall who was beside Harry. “That man knew he was dragging you into an offer you simply cannot resist. He’s playing you and, for some stupid reason I don’t understand, you wanted to fall into his trap.”

“But Gem–”

“You aren’t even considering what Niall is feeling,” said Gemma. Niall blushed, looking down on the pavement. “It’s not easy to forget,” she continued, “and that arrogant sonofabitch knows too well how a game of revenge is played. You’re only making things worse, Harold. Don’t squeeze yourself into something that shouldn’t be your concern.”

Harry huffed. “It’s my concern! Niall’s my best–”

“ _Listen_ to me, Harry Styles,” Gemma raised her voice, “Niall doesn’t need you every single _fucking_ time! Being the best friend doesn’t give you the bragging rights to do as you please and treat him like _fucking_ handicap!”

Niall fidgeted. “Gemma, please…”

Gemma’s expression softened. “I know that tone, Niall.” She went forward, past Harry, and gave Niall a hug. “Stop defending Harry all the time. I know you think he’s being so gracious to you but it’s becoming a little self-serving rather than charity.”

“Can we just forget that ever happened?” asked Niall softly, smiling lightly at Gemma as she pulled away. “Just move on perhaps? I’d rather this incident be done for – burned. I need not reminder of my mistakes in the past.”

“Alright,” said Gemma.

The door of the restaurant opened and Louis came out, his knitted navy blue and red scarf cossetted around his neck. He held in his hand Gemma’s book, handing it quickly to her, obviously unable to sense the dispersing tension that once clung to the cold air. “Forgot that inside,” said Louis. “I enjoyed our conversation.”

“Well,” Gemma smiled, “you’re a wonderful conversationalist…unlike my brother.” She turned towards Harry who was still sulking. “Who, I think, will never appreciate the sense of enlightenment books can give someone.”

Harry looked away. “Poppycock,” he grumbled.

“Yes, we’ve met,” said Louis, blushing a little under the moonlight. “I have breakfast at their coffee shop.” He hesitated for a moment and decided to pursue with the planned schedule in his head. Three days into staying in this sleepy town, he feels the want to stay but there doesn’t seem to be any anchorage pulling him down to be stopped from being dragged away. “I-I think I should go…”

“Where are you staying?” asked Gemma.

“Actually,” Louis nibbled on his lower lip, “I’m leaving tonight. There’s not so much to see so…”

Both Niall and Gemma didn’t miss the reaction on Harry’s face, the slight disappointment he was trying to mask but was clearly visible in the moonlight. Niall was quick to answer, to counter Louis’ trajectory of leaving town perhaps forever.

“You should stay at my house,” Niall suddenly suggested.

Louis looked surprised. “I-I don’t think–”

“I insist,” said Niall. “The festival isn’t over yet, Louis. I really hope you’ll stay here until it’s over. One week doesn’t seem so bad, right?”

Louis considered, glancing at Gemma’s and Niall’s expectant faces. What was he to lose? After an almost rooted three-day routine here in Brookshire, there doesn’t seem to be anything making him want to stay. Could this be it? A stranger is now offering his home without even considering the possibilities, and that has got him thinking how peculiar it was. He has wandered all over Europe ever since he left Doncaster, spending the money he had in search for a place where he could start again. Now fate seemed to be tying him to an anchor: these new faces were all waiting for his reply, awaiting his leap of faith.

“Okay,” said Louis. “One week.”

But he hoped it would be forever.


	3. Three

_“Perhaps, the problem is not the intensity of your love, but the quality of the people you are loving.”_

_\- Warsan Shire_

_ (still) November 20th. _

__

**The evening was growing darker** and colder, trees outside the window seemingly shuddering from the pre-winter winds that doesn’t seem to want to stop. Liam was walking slowly down the street, watching the phoenix lanterns sway gracefully, the tiny flames inside them burning brightly. The woman pacing faster in front of him obviously was mad at what happened at the restaurant – aside from the fact that the mayor’s self-indulgence was irritating.

“Soph, c’mon,” huffed Liam. “Talk to me.”

With a sigh, Sophia turned around with a frown. “How long are you going to torture that man?” she said. “Is this your idea of getting even? Well, it’s wrong, Liam.”

“Don’t defend him,” said Liam coldly.

“I’m not per se but,” Sophia blinked and glanced at the pale moon, “this is all reckless, Liam. How long are you going to bear that grudge inside your heart? Niall has made a life here and I really hope you didn’t just come here to destroy what he already has now…”

Liam scoffed. “I came here for payback _and_ for the company to expand. It’s called hitting two birds with one stone.”

“This just won’t work,” replied Sophia, exasperated. “And _girlfriend_? That’s a low blow.”

Rolling his eyes, Liam mumbled, “I had to think of something…”

From that sentence grew a small silence that was either an end or simply a deep breath before the plunge, before the onslaught of an oncoming storm. The silence was a ticking time bomb just waiting for the clock to strike off and cause an explosion; Liam was the ticking time bomb. He’s outraged at himself for still having a little speck endearment towards his past: the man who seemed to be with another man now.

 _I still love you_. Liar, thought Liam. The pang of jealousy had seeped through his veins and fueled his anger even more. So he went off and lied about his sister Sophia as well. He wasn’t sure who Harry was in Niall’s life but he couldn’t stand there looking desperate and sea-green with envy. Two can play at that game.

But after the silence, Sophia had enough of Liam’s childish means. Though it was forbidden, she stepped into the realm of what was not to be uttered:

“If mom was here, she’d been very disappointed––”

“Don’t bring her into this!” snapped Liam. “She’s not your mother – and she never will be! So stop _acting_ like you knew her and the things she did so well!” Liam’s eyes were burning, like a hearth tended to by the Greek goddess Hestia herself. “You will never be her daughter because you’re what comes of a woman – a whore – who goes around, sucking my father’s cock!”

A slap reverberated on the chilly street. Sophia’s face said it all, a single tear slipped down her right cheek. The madness in Liam’s head suddenly dissipated, making him realize what he just did. “You _worthless_ sonofabitch–” Sophia’s voice cracked, the cry she had been neutralizing went off like a dam bursting, “Four years of earning your trust and you call me that?! I am not Karen’s daughter but she treated me like one – god _dammit_ , Liam, she _treated_ me as one!” Her face cringed. “So what right do you have to call me a crack whore’s daughter?!”

“S-Soph, I’m sorry–”

“You know that I love you, don’t you, Liam?” said Sophia. “I do because I know Karen loved you and she would’ve ask from me the same. But I can’t do it like this, Liam. I’m your sister…” she sobbed. “How could you say that to me?”

Words were trying to come out of Liam’s lips but what was the point? What could he say that would make things less worse? Liam could feel stone after stone falling down his back, his lungs now tightening under the horrified feeling he had in his chest.

“I’m sleeping in another hotel,” said Sophia.

There was hesitation in Liam’s movements, perhaps wanting to argue that there was no need to go separate ways, but what right did he had to say no?

 

***

When Louis had been told he was to sleep in his just-met acquaintance’s house, he did not expect it to be _that_ big. Apart from the seemingly growing grassy mane of the lawn and the shedding rowan tree by the side of the house that looked immortal compared to the grounds surrounding it, the interior of Niall’s home was a lackluster beauty. He could see through the boxes and the old paintings that this was once a marvelous place, fallen into gloom with its apparently and equally riddled owner.

Niall was a pleasant person, that Louis could attest, but there seemed to be something underneath the pale coating that had become his costume for the outside world. Louis could see in his eyes that he had been broken but had chosen to stand up – a perfect example of standing against the tyranny of fate and time.

Their voices echoed in the main hall, the atrium that led to the stairs that looked like an unrolled tongue of wood; and even though it was Niall who invited him, both Harry and Gemma decided to stick around, making the small talks with the master of the house a little less awkward.

“Pardon the boxes,” said Niall, heading up the stairs. “I’ve always meant to find a place to store them all – or maybe use the contents to redecorate.”

“Yeah, like that’s true,” commented Harry, sounding a little brave.

Louis couldn’t hide his smile, the slight appeal of Harry’s wittiness making his cheeks blush. After taking another step up the stairs, he looked up and caught Niall sporting a small smirk. It was obvious his cheeks were still red.

Niall turned right. “So, Louis, tell me,” the unfinished sentence hung in the air and his blonde host opened the nearest door, “what would you like for breakfast tomorrow? I’m sure Harry would _love_ to make some for you.”

The question made Louis’ eyes widen. He wasn’t serious, was he? But Niall’s blue eyes were challenging, a hint of mischief was in them and though he knew it was some sort of trap, Louis decided there was no harm in trying to step into that wary territory. It was time to admit that the days of spending breakfast at Mason’s had made him realize his growing crush on Harry.

His palms were sweating and there was a lump in his throat. Strangers were now trying to coax their way into his being – was this the sign? The voice of the fortuneteller he met back in Barcelona echoed in his head: _Good things come in threes. But you’ll find disappointment where you will find hope. Regret is temporary, perhaps. But the choices are up to you. Are you done running, boy? Will you let your past stop haunting you forever?_

Louis blinked. What’s with the deep thoughts? It was only breakfast on the line, and yet he felt so near the edge of the cliff and was close to falling. It was a leap of faith – or so he hoped.

“Surprise me,” said Louis, and he remembered saying that to the barista Zayn when they first met. That was how he got tangled up in _their_ fates. If he never walked into Mason’s then he wouldn’t be probably standing outside the guest bedroom of the house of the coffee shop’s owner.

“Will do,” Niall grinned, elbowing Harry’s chest.

When they had left, and after he promised Gemma they’ll go to the library together, Louis closed the door of the bedroom. He placed his traveling bag on the edge of the bed and sat beside it. The moonlight was slowly creeping into the room, floor drowned in silver. He kicked off his shoes, rummaged his bag for some clean clothes, and slipped on a blue t-shirt and a pair of joggers.

Louis pulled out his phone which, for the first time, he realized wasn’t of any use aside from the map in it. There were no numbers to call, no one to call him. He had become a nomad in search for a place to lay down his anchor.

He could tell that his hair was a mess but when his head pressed against the soft pillows, his consciousness started slipping and there nagged a feeling in his heart that the nightmares would haunt him once more.

 

***

_ November 21st. _

__

It caught on everything it touched, curling and devouring like a monster glowing brightly. The curtains were now burning, black smoke had turned the room into a trap. Louis couldn’t breathe. Maybe he’ll die of suffocation? A light burst from the distance and a man in firefighter gear knelt next to him and carried him out of the room.

 _Save us! Save us!_ Wails of despair was everywhere. An entire block of houses were burning away into ashes. The plane crash was so sudden. In the middle of the night the place became like hell. Water blasted out of large fire hoses, killing the fires.

But Louis couldn’t see them anywhere.

 _Lie down, son,_ the man who saved him tried to calm him down as he laid on a stretcher, _it’s okay. You’re gonna be alright_.

Louis wanted to shout at him and tell him that _nothing_ was alright, but his throat hurt and it burned because of the smoke he inhaled. A medic had placed an oxygen mask over his mouth and Louis felt dizzy. He blacked out.

Then he was at a funeral. The black suits reminded him of the smoke that engulfed their home, the sun’s burning heat a reminder of the flames. There were coffins in front of him but he couldn’t bear look at them – not now, not ever. He started hearing his sisters’ laughed, their giggles as they played around the living room. His father would be on the couch, watching a match while having a beer in one hand and the remote on the other, and his mother was in the kitchen making dinner.

Everything suddenly burst into flames and the screams grew louder and louder.

_Louis! Louis! LOUIS!!_

 

Sweat was beading on his forehead and Louis quickly wiped it off.

His eyes unconsciously scanned the room as if it was burning – something that he had been doing ever since he left Doncaster. It was still early in the morning but he got up, stripped off his shirt which had been drenched in sweat. The cool air from the window hit his bare chest and made him shiver. He welcomed it nonetheless, the soft breeze like icy slithers freezing his lightly tanned skin. His fingers traced the tan lines on his shoulders.

Athens, he remembered. He would’ve been mistaken for a Greek if it wasn’t for his accent; his skin had become tan from all the hiking and exploring he had done in the Mediterranean peninsula. Sunny days in Greece were nothing compared to cloud-infested England. It was stereotypic but it’s quite funny if you think about it.

Not even bothering to put a shirt on, Louis ventured out of his room and down the grand staircase. Light was flooding from the kitchen, a faint sizzle could be heard. The grandfather clock at the bottom of the stairs said it was a quarter to six. Embarrassment flooded his senses, reminding him that he was half-naked. There were some shuffling inside the kitchen.

“I know you’re out there, Ni,” said the voice from the kitchen.

Louis panicked and tried to tiptoe away from the light but he tripped on some of the boxes and fell miserably onto the floor. “ _Shit_ –” He quickly covered his mouth, hoping he wasn’t heard. Louis scrambled to get up and maybe slip back into his room.

Too late, though.

Harry was staring at him with wide eyes. “ _What_ are you doing?”

“I went to get a glass of water,” Louis blushed, “and then I tripped.”

A smirked formed on Harry’s lips. “A likely story.”

“It was the boxes,” explained Louis, his cheeks were burning even harder.

“Yeah, I’ll report them.” Harry grinned.

“For what?”

“Hurting a pretty little thing like you.”

“Oh.” Louis tried not to act flustered. “Um…you do that.”

Harry held out his hand and Louis accepted it. He pulled Louis up and he staggered onto Harry’s chest. It’s odd that he felt so small because this man in front of him was simply _humungous_. When he realized where the warmth he felt was coming from, Louis backed away, almost tripping again if Harry hadn’t caught him.

The taller physique man in front of him almost sported an amused smile. “Woah, easy there,” Harry grabbed him by the hips and his skin tingled, “you seem to _love_ hurting yourself.”

Louis composed himself, slipping from the arm that had coiled itself to his waist. “Yeah well, I’m not usually clumsy. I was just distracted–”

“By me?” The question reeked of arrogance and anything associated with big-headedness, but the smirk on Harry’s lips was enticing, tempting to just lean in and – no, he wasn’t gonna be seduced so easily. Hard-to-get was the name of the game.

“By my lack of hydration.” Louis snorted. “And in your _dreams_ , jerk.”

“Go ahead and provoke me.” Harry’s eyes darkened – they were scary and beautiful at the same time. “If you think I’ll just let you slip away, you’re wrong. In my dreams,” Harry leaned closer, both of his hands shot towards the bare skin above Louis’ waist, “you’re more than eager.”

Louis was struggling for control. Falling for someone while that someone falls for you too – it’s too simple. There has to be a catch. Apart from the fact that this was too good to be true, Louis felt a bit off that one stumble from stacked up boxes could lead to romantic situations. Fate was tricking him, inveigling him to drop his anchor. The mere illusion of this ending well was something he’d bargain for but–

He lessened the struggle, perhaps stopped entirely, and let the evergreen eyes of Harry Styles to wash over him. Hands pressing softly against Harry’s shoulders, Louis pushed him away. “Not yet,” he whispered.

The warmth disappeared but Harry was still inches away from him. Bicep muscles moving, and paler complexion than Louis; Harry’s curls were unkempt, reaching almost to his shoulder, and yet even with the grizzly look he exuded kindness on a whole different level.

“I got carried away, didn’t I?” asked Harry. “Sorry, I ran out of cards.”

“It’s me, really,” admitted Louis, “you’re so overwhelming. Either way, I don’t want Niall to think I only came here because of you. He’s a gracious host and I think it’s not fair for him that I’m flirting in _this_ house – in his sanctuary.”

“Wait.” Harry’s eyebrows furrowed. “Does that mean you–”

“Of course I like you,” said Louis. “Isn’t that obvious enough?”

“Wow. Talk about a smooth confession.”

Louis shrugged. “What’s the point in lying about it? I’ve grown accustomed from my travels never to hold myself back on anything. I don’t have to fear anything.”

“Some people fear oblivion,” suggested Harry.

“People remember others by the good things they’ve done so naturally people fear of not being good enough for remembrance, that’s human nature,” said Louis. “And it’s also human nature for them to be so judgmental. So I really try not to care anymore, just shrug it off every time. I’ve learned from my travels that many people exist in this world and all of them deserve our respect no matter who they are.”

“So you’re not scared of falling in love with me?”

Louis smirked. “You and your sister are more alike than the two of you know.”

Harry laughed. “Don’t tell her that.”

After a smile, Louis tiptoed and leaned in. The kiss was short but Harry’s face was priceless, filled with both shock and a little blush.

“What was–”

“You asked if I’m scared,” said Louis. “There’s your answer.”

 

***

Niall struggled to get up at first, but then something in his head told him that _something_ was up. It’s odd that he could sense it – even odder that it was stirring him up. He quickly slipped on his bunny slippers and _swooshed_ out of his room and down the stairs. And as luck would have it he peeked into the kitchen and found Louis sitting opposite Harry.

“How is it?” Harry smiled as he watched Louis fork up a piece of scrambled egg into his mouth. His eyes traveled wherever Louis’ hand went, attentive and expectant. “Too salty?”

Louis laughed. “You could never do too salty. Your cooking is perfect.”

The two of them started grinning like fools and then Harry slipped off of the bar stool he was sitting on and walked to Louis. The brunette was about to react, placing down his fork on the plate, but Harry quickly caught his wrists. They stared at each other for a moment, and Harry leaned in and kissed Louis on the lips.

“Still not scared?” asked Harry, pulling away.

“Still not scared,” answered Louis.

 _Welcome to the cheesy express_ , thought Niall. He cleared his throat and jumped right out from behind the wall where he was sneaking about. “Good morning, lovebirds!” he bellowed happily. Niall couldn’t hold back the impending smirk as he watched Harry retreat back to his chair, face flushed red.

“You,” Niall patted Harry’s shoulder and helped himself to a pancake, “are one _smooth_ lover-boy, Mr. Styles.” He sat down in their midst and grinned after swallowing down what he was chewing. “I thought Louis staying here would make things go faster but _damn_ this was faster than fast.”

Louis’ eyes widened comically. “Y-You were planning this?!”

“Happy accident.” Niall smirked. “Some things don’t need to be planned.”

 

The rest of breakfast was an awkward situation waiting to break free – at least to Harry and Louis. Niall was perfectly fine, humming away as he ate. A few minutes after Niall caught the two of them kissing, Gemma arrived with coffee from Mason’s. She kept on whispering to Niall, asking him what was going on but Niall just kept on smiling.

“You’re really not gonna tell me, are you?” Gemma raised her eyebrow.

Niall took a sip of his coffee. “If I told you, you’d go hysterical.”

“Please don’t,” Harry interjected. “Don’t you even _dare_.”

Gemma stared at Harry, taking in her younger brother’s flushed cheeks. Then she saw the same expression on Louis’ face and her eyes widened. A light shriek went off in her throat and she grinned deviously, shaking Niall’s arm. “Oh. My. _God_.”

“It’s not what you thi–”

“You and I,” Gemma grabbed Louis’ hand, “need to have a talk.”

Harry groaned as they left the room to head for the atrium of the house. While Niall snickered, Harry glared at him, stabbing the food he cooked mercilessly like it had been convicted of a crime. But Niall just stared at him and shrugged. “She would’ve found out sooner or later, Haz.”

“She’s my sister,” grumbled Harry, “and knowing how obnoxiously beautiful she is, Gemma will forever haunt me with teasing while she dyes her hair with some random color.”

“I liked the bleached blonde with blue highlights,” cited Niall. “She’s prettier with that.”

Harry gave him a murderous look. “Don’t change the subject.”

Niall smirked, acting and sounding innocent. “Oh, I’m sorry, would you like to go back to how I caught you kissing my highly esteemed guest so early in the morning?”

The chair on which Harry was sitting on almost gave way, creaking loudly, as he leaned backwards while making a sound which was like a cross between a whine and a groan. His cheeks burned red once again upon remembrance, and yet there was a nagging section of his heart that was celebrating. He was _seriously_ confused.

“Haz?”

Harry glanced at Niall who smiled lightly at him.

“What?”

“I hope you’ll be happy…with him.”

And Harry doesn’t know what to say after that.

 

***

It was somewhat a better morning after Gemma had talked with Louis, and Harry had finally gotten over the fact that his sister was even more excited about the prospect of him having a boyfriend. A little compromise was needed to shut Gemma up though which consisted of Harry heading for Mason’s and both Louis and Gemma going to the library.

Niall was left alone in his house which felt a little dreadful when it’s empty. It was like a hollow corpse lying still in the morgue: it was cold and silent. When noon came and after Harry gave him a call saying that Perrie was doing both morning and evening duty (“Really?” Niall sounded surprised, a little smile forming on his lips. “How’s Zayn by the way?” There was a small chuckle on the other end of the call. “You just saw him yesterday,” replied Harry, amused. “But, yeah, he’s fine.”), Niall decided to do some paperwork of the coffee shop in the study.

There was a small sticky note on his corkboard reminding him to worry about the coming semester but Niall just shook his head and crumpled up the paper, shooting it straight into the nearest trash bin and even shouting, “Three points for _Gryffindor_!” before starting his toil on the paperwork.

Time seemed to pass by so fast that Niall had forgotten his half-eaten sandwich on the table as well as his cold cup of tea. Shadows of the branches of the rowan tree outside were already casted by the orange setting sun onto the carpet. Though it was already late in afternoon, Niall kept on filing away the pieces of paper – that was until the doorbell rang.

He ran down, thinking it was Louis and Gemma already back from the library. His footsteps echoed as he descended down the stairs. A smile was on his face when he reached for the knob, not even bothering to check the peep hole who it was, but the smile on his lips faded and his skin turned paler than it was when he saw who was standing at his doorstep.

“L-Liam?” Niall couldn’t hide the fear in his voice. “What are you–”

“You shouldn’t open doors so easily for strangers,” murmured Liam, his pupils dilated. “You never know what they’ll do – especially to pretty faces like you.”

Niall couldn’t do anything but to step back further into the house as Liam’s taller figure walked towards him. Before long Liam was already inside and the temperature of the room shifted, accompanied with the click of the lock on the door. Niall could feel a slight shiver on his skin as Liam brooded over him like a vulture poised for the hunt – like he was the most-awaited carcass for dinner. Without any warning, Liam yanked his arms and forced him closer, their faces inches from each other. There was a wild look inside Liam’s eyes and it admittedly scared the hell out of Niall. Of the years they have been together, Niall has never seen Liam this manic.

“What do you want, Liam?” Niall forced himself to ask.

And there was that devilish smile. “You.”

It was just like at the alley when Liam kissed him: rough and almost angry. Niall could feel the slight lust and frustration in Liam’s movements, how he tilted his lips to kiss Niall better and how his fingers slowly slipped under Niall’s shirt, tracing the skin underneath. There was that low growl when Niall, for a moment, hesitated but it was just for a short while. The blonde couldn’t do anything but groan. Hell, Liam was still good at it.

There was a conflict in his head on whether or not any of this was real. If, by some sort of miracle, Liam had forgotten all about what had transpired more than three years ago or this was all just a trick and he was falling into the trap like the dumb little lamb that he was and Liam was the preying wolf with an evil doggy smile.

“This can’t be happening,” Niall wheezed, flustered to the very depth of his being.

A nibble on the earlobe later, Liam was torturously grinding himself against Niall. “Yes, it is, Nialler,” was Liam’s reply and, yes, Niall truly believes that this was some sort of trick and he was letting himself be the victim. But he can’t get away – not from this. As stupid as it sounds, he didn’t _want_ to get away. This was – Liam was _and_ is – his Achilles’ heel. This was the supermassive black hole that was sucking every inhibition and sanity from him. All he sees is Liam and his longing for the brunette was an override of what kept him thinking straight.

“Nngh…” Niall’s nails dragged onto the front of Liam’s shirt. “P-Please stop…”

“Do you really _want_ to stop?” Liam purred. “Do you, baby?”

Like an apple from a tree, Niall fell. Gravity with all its laws and principles decidedly became a bitch for one second to let the soaring hawk swoop down to catch the mouse; a fly caught in a spider’s web. Does he want to stop – does he really? The words easily tumbled out of Niall’s lips. “N-no…”

Liam’s eyes darkened.

 

***

 _Second card_ , _the twins_ , the woman told him. _Good things will come to you – perhaps in twos. I must tell you that these cards don’t mean anything more than you can see. They depend on your conviction and will to lead your own fate. Third card, mortem arcana. Death seems to be something you will never forget but whether you get haunted by it or not is purely decision-wise. My advice is don’t blame yourself – it never helps._

Even though the tarot woman (which Louis thought to be fake, given that her array of tarot cards weren’t exactly _traditional_ ) had charged him five euros for the fortune reading, Louis was starting to think maybe she wasn’t as fraud as she was. Or maybe this was that very Greek trick of fate where denial wasn’t an option to take upon.

Twins. He was sure it meant _siblings_. And who other could that be than Harry and Gemma. They might not be twins, rather opposites of each other, but they both have that influence over Louis which he finds settling. It wasn’t weird at all – not even the slightest. Even as for this moment, while he was with Gemma at the library, browsing away what they could find like hungry literary scavengers, Louis never felt happier in his life after the tragedy.

“Hey, Louis, check this out.” Gemma was holding between her hands a hardbound, tattered copy of _The Lord of the Flies_. “I’ve only seen paperbacks of this. This must be really rare.”

But Louis was too preoccupied with the debate going on in his head about how he’d never been happier that what Gemma was talking about was pure muffled voices. His thoughts stretched farther until Gemma finally knocked on his head with the book.

She had a frown on his face. “You’re not even listening!”

“Sorry.” Louis blushed. “I was just…I don’t know…thinking?”

“About my brother?” Gemma smiled.

“Everything, actually,” replied Louis. “All that has happened. It seems so surreal that I’m almost wondering if any of this is really true, or is this simply a dream and I’m actually in my bed in the hotel, cuddling with a pillow in the break of dawn.”

Gemma ruffled Louis’ hair. “You talk too much, _baby bro_.”

Louis’ eyes widened, and Gemma noticed but she didn’t stop from smiling. She stuffed the book back into the shelf and crossed her arms over her chest. “Look,” Gemma said, “I’m not trying to _force_ you into whatever it is you and my brother suddenly have.” She took Louis’ hand in hers. “But I really, _really_ , want you to be my brother.”

“Now I’m feeling guilty if this doesn’t work out,” said Louis.

“Hey, don’t feel that way,” insisted Gemma. “If it doesn’t work out then it wasn’t meant to be. But let me tell you this: as cliché as it sounds, it’s true that fate led you here for a reason. It’s the _cheesiest_ thing in the whole universe and yet it’s the most truthful fact of all.”

 

The walk back to Mason’s for an afternoon cup of tea was a silent one. Both of them just wanted to admire the sunset’s fading grace that showered on the vernal treetops and the greyscale paved roads which were littered with golden leaves that simply danced in the wind. Flames flickering inside the lanterns that swayed softly in the cool wind brought the phoenixes embroidered on them feel alive. The two of them didn’t say anything but it was as if they spoke to each other. Perhaps, Louis thought, this was the magic that Brookshire had.

Upon entering, the shop was already crowded and the two of them had to squeeze their way through plenty of people just to reach the entrance to the kitchen. Harry was busy in the kitchen, Perrie was busy doing both the counter and making coffee, and Zayn and Josh were frantic enough to follow the onslaught of orders.

Gemma took off her scarf and beanie, and rolled up the sleeves of her jacket. She was swift to move that Louis didn’t even notice her putting on an apron and just caught her tying her hair up in a bun. With a pleasant smile, she greeted one of the customers in front of the counter. “Hi, welcome to Mason’s, may I take your order?”

“Oi, Hazza!” Zayn shouted. “Your sister’s here!”

The phone by the small cramped-up office suddenly rang amidst the clamor. Louis was about to head over and answer it but Zayn beat him to it. “Mason’s, Zayn Malik speaking. How may I help you–Niall?” Zayn glanced at Louis. “Yeah, he’s here. Are you alri–” He winced. “Alright, alright, calm down…” Zayn handed the phone to Louis. “It’s for you – it’s Niall.”

Louis took the phone from Zayn and the hazel-eyed barista slipped back to do his work. All he could hear at first was a shaky breathing followed by a soft sob. “N-Niall?”

“Louis…”

“You okay?”

Niall burst into crying. “P-Please…can you…go back here?”

“I–alright. Let me get Harry–”

“ _NO_! Please don’t! Just you…please…”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just…please…”

Louis glanced at the sea of people behind him. Both Gemma and Harry were busy attending to the customers. But what was this strange feeling in his chest? He hasn’t felt like this way before ever since… Louis shook his head. He shouldn’t think like that – but still, he could feel the imminent dark foreboding cloud in the horizon; a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode.

The last he heard was, “Where’s Louis?” before he stepped out of the shop and headed down the street, hoping that Niall was simply joking because the tone of his voice didn’t sound anything but trouble.

Before Harry could pick up the dangling phone the line went dead and he wondered why.

 

***

It was getting dark and Liam was walking down the street, hands in his pocket. The wind was subtly blowing and yet he could feel a chilling tide of guilt in his stomach. Why did he do that? Perhaps it was frustration, anger, or whatever dark feeling that compelled him to do so.

He bowed his head, his tears were starting to sting.

But whatever forced him to do what he did, it was already there.

He looked up and saw the bridge in the distance. There were only a few people on the streets because they were all at the town square for the festival. He could hear the gushing water underneath the bridge and Liam had decided: it was time to end this.

He’s now worth nothing to the world.

 

***

With dusk slowly catching up with him, Louis walked briskly towards the Horan house. At that time, when there was worry in his chest, the house felt odd and more or less uncanny. The lights were off except for one of the bedrooms upstairs and Louis guessed it was Niall’s room. When he had reached the front door, he rang the doorbell but no one answered or even opened the door. Gently, Louis pushed the door and it squeaked open.

“Mr. Horan?” Louis blinked: He shouldn’t be calling him _that_. “Niall?”

The flight up the stairs was even more horrific than hearing Niall’s shaky voice over the telephone. Each step he took, each creaking sound the stairs made only forced his heart rate to speed up, and when at last he saw the agape door of Niall’s room from which light was streaming out, Louis was close to having a heart attack.

In fact, he _did_ have a mini heart attack upon opening the door.

Niall was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands curled up around the blanket that twisted around his body. He was dressed – fully clothed – but something was off, Louis was sure of it. When the blonde looked at him with his bloodshot eyes, Louis noticed the lip-shaped bruise on Niall’s neck. He looked broken, wrecked, and it was not a pleasant sight to see.

As Louis got closer, Niall turned away, almost ashamed. It was such an unusual sight to see Niall that way that Louis was having his suspicions. “What’s the matter?” he asked the blonde who looked at him fearfully.

“Nothing,” replied Niall timidly.

“You called me here, crying,” said Louis. “That doesn’t sound like nothing.”

Niall started crying and Louis sat down beside him; he pulled him close, let him rest on his shoulder. Louis felt Niall’s fingers curl around his shirt and he figured that this wasn’t a simple problem – he _really_ needed Harry right now. “Shhh,” murmured Louis. “Niall, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Liam. He–” Niall hiccupped. “He…” When the blonde tried to move, perhaps because of inhibitions, he winced slightly.

Blood drained from Louis’ face.

 _Fourth card: the damsel_ , said the tarot woman. _You will meet someone who will undergo great conflict. It is betrayal and something more. That person will be faced with the tragedy of love and all its concepts. But beware, he still holds the heart of someone you want for yourself. They are either an enemy or a friend._

The woman paused, a glint of smile on her lips. _All of that is up to you._

 

***

_Niall was crying, begging him to stop, but he didn’t – he kept going._

Liam stepped on the edge of the bridge, the rushing cold waters a few feet below him. It was better that the darkness stopped him from seeing the bottom. A cold breeze of air brushed his cheeks and tears started slipping down them.

 _And after he was done, he left Niall lying there, all alone_.

There was a droning sound in his ear, a soft hum that came from nowhere but inside his soul. Enticing him to move further down the ledge, Liam raised one of his feet over the river and took a deep breath.

It’ll be over soon.

_Niall didn’t want to, but he forced him. He could hear the blonde’s sobs as he kept on thrusting, hands holding down Niall’s arms onto the bed. He could feel him shaking underneath him, afraid and humiliated. It wasn’t love – it was lust._

“Liam!” He could hear Sophia’s voice in the distance. “Don’t!”

But it was too late. He already jumped.


	4. Four

_“People say, ‘There are other fish in the sea.’ I say, ‘Fuck you; [s]he was my sea.’”_

-          _J. Faulkner_

 

_ November 22nd. _

 

 **There was a bright light** and Liam hoped it was hell – because that’s where he belonged. Not in heaven, no; there was no place for him there, not even a small tiny spot. But when his eyes adjusted to the light, a pale gray ceiling greeted him in its monotony. It didn’t take Liam long to realize that he didn’t get his wish.

He wasn’t in hell – he was at a hospital.

The room was silent with nothing but the drone of the air conditioning system by the window. Liam’s eyes scanned the stagnant room, hoping this was just a daydream and none of the things that happened _did_ happen.

And that’s when it flashed in his mind again.

His hands fisted up the bed’s comforter as waves of agony surged through his heart. Why didn’t he just die? When he tried to commit suicide on that bridge he was sure no one will save him. He was sure Sophia couldn’t have jumped into the freezing river and carried him back to shore. All she could do was call for help, and by that time Liam would’ve drowned.

So why _didn’t_ he die?

His eyes kept scanning the room for an answer, but what he found instead only obliterated his heart and soul into a million pieces. Niall was sleeping on the edge of the bed, his head rested on his crossed arms. Suddenly Liam found it hard to breathe: Maybe this _was_ hell – his own personal hell bound to torture him with sights of Niall.

Amidst his slight scampering, Niall began to stir. He lifted his head up, grumbled, and squinted until his blue eyes met with Liam’s horrified brown ones. They stared at each other for a moment, and after a short intake of breath and a smile from Niall, the blonde lunged at him and gave him a tight hug. “I thought I lost you,” whispered Niall.

But Liam pulled away, disbelieving of what he was hearing, of what he was seeing. This _has_ to be a dream – there was no other explanation for this oddity. Whatever was happening was definitely impossible in reality. There was no _way_ that Niall could ever forgive him.

“This is a dream,” Liam muttered exasperatedly. He looked at Niall. “All of this – it’s a dream, right? This is my _punishment_ for being a…a…”

Niall placed a finger on Liam’s lips. “Don’t. Just don’t, Liam.”

“What do you mean _don’t_?!” Liam pushed Niall away, afraid and ashamed. “I hurt you! I _took away_ your virginity in the most evil way possible! I’m the _monster_ people tell their children at night! I don’t deserve to live!” Tears streamed down Liam’s cheeks. “So why do you still want to see a monster like me?”

“Because _I’m_ the one who turned you into a monster,” answered Niall. “You were, to me, the most wonderful creature in the whole world. But then I broke your trust and provoked you into anger. I broke my promise because I was blind and a slave to what my parents thought was right.”

“No, no,” said Liam. “That’s not–”

“It’s true and we both know it,” said Niall.

Liam cringed. “Then know as well that I’m not worth it…”

“Yes, you are,” insisted Niall. “Believe me, I’ve tried to find a replacement but nothing compares to you–”

“ _Christ_ , Niall,” groaned Liam. “Why do you have to be so _fucking_ blind?!”

“Because I _am_ blind,” stated Niall, letting out a sigh. “I’m blind, I’m stupid, I’m a mess – I’m everything in between. We’re both lost souls, Liam. We are pieces of each other’s puzzles: one heck of a crazy couple.”

Liam stared at him in disbelief. “Wh…why?” he croaked.

“Why what?”

“Why do you still want to be with me?”

“I love you, that’s why, stupid,” murmured Niall. “The whole world may think I’m out of my mind coming back to you but I beg to differ. Whoever did that to me was not you – that wasn’t you, Liam. That was someone else, molded from my unwise decisions; a ghost from my past.”

There was a silence for Liam was laid speechless. He stared closely at Niall, watched his blonde hair move lightly in the moving air. Why was he so peaceful? He was a victim of an unjust crime and yet there was not a single trace of him being mortified.

Then, another flash back.

_Niall cried out as Liam took off his clothes, dragging him onto the bed. It gave of a slight creak as Liam surged on top of Niall. There was that horror in Niall’s eyes––_

“Aaaaarrrgghhh!” Liam clutched his head, Niall’s chilling cries were filling his head in haunting echoes. His eyes were wide open but the flashes would not stop. The torment did not want to be over. “AAAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!!”

“Liam?!” Niall stood up, holding Liam’s arms but the brunette was beginning to shake. “W-What’s wrong?!”

_––He pushed it in without wearing any protection. Niall’s nails were digging onto the skin on his back but he did not hold back. He was on a rage, a lustful rampage that appeared to have no ending. Niall was crying, begging him to stop––_

“PLEASE! MAKE IT STOP!” screamed Liam. “I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY!”

“What’s happening, Liam?!” Niall was panicking. “What’s wrong?!”

_––With the last ounce of strength, he came inside him. But once he caught his breath, he did it again. Tears were running down Niall’s cheeks but he thrust it back in without warning––_

Liam was already screaming so loud that Niall didn’t even need to call a nurse. Two of them came rushing in and tried to calm Liam down but Liam was shouting fervently the same exact sentences, shaking and gasping for air.

_––Niall didn’t want to, but he forced him. He could hear the blonde’s sobs as he kept on thrusting, hands holding down Niall’s arms onto the bed. He could feel him shaking underneath him, afraid and humiliated. It wasn’t love – it was lust._

When it was clear that he wasn’t going to stop, the nurse stuck a needle into Liam’s skin and slowly he calmed down until he began acting woozy, finally collapsing onto Niall who was still holding him the whole time.

“Oh, Liam,” Niall sobbed, “I’m sorry too…”

 

***

Without anyone even uttering a word, Niall could feel the tension building up. His cautious gaze travelled across the room: Harry was by the window, staring blankly outside; Louis sat on a chair, apparently in discussion with the woman Liam was with in the restaurant; Gemma was on the phone, perhaps calling Anne just to talk over some things – particularly Harry.

When the doctor came in, time seemed to have stopped. Every action in the process was abruptly halted to give way to the news the medical man has to say. The woman beside Louis stood up and walked forward, fumbling with her fingers in pure nervousness.

“Family of Liam James Payne?” asked the doctor.

“I am, sir,” the woman raised her hand.

Niall felt a lump in his throat. Family? He knew Liam didn’t have any sisters so who was this woman? A cousin perhaps? No. Liam was never close to his other relatives other than those who lived in the same town as them – meaning just the old people. So if that was so, then–

The doctor looked at her curiously. “Relation to the patient?”

Biting her lip, the woman said, “Sister. Half-sister, that is.”

“And you are Miss…?”

“Oh, um,” the woman was apparently startled. “Sophia Smith. I never bothered using Payne because…well…basically, I’ve got no right to do so.”

“Right,” the doctor sounded bored, “well, Ms. Smith, your brother has been attended to by several doctors aside myself and the conclusion was clear: He’s experiencing post-traumatic stress disorder.” He paused for a moment before continuing, glancing at his notes. “This sort of thing happens upon incurring an injury. The trauma he received when he jumped off the bridge triggered his brain to behave abnormally, creating these deliriums which cause his sudden outburst of emotions – particularly fear and anguish.”

From behind Sophia, she heard a sound.

“Stop it, Harry!” said Niall.

“What did he say?” asked Sophia.

Niall glanced at her and then at Harry.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. “I said ‘good for him’. He deserves it.”

There was a short gasp from both Sophia and Louis; Gemma was looking darkly at her younger brother, and Niall’s hands balled up into fists. The doctor appeared alarmed by the lack of sympathy coming from the tallest person in the room.

“Sir,” Sophia’s voice was trembling, “my brother may have done some things that are unacceptable but that doesn’t give you the right to wish this upon him…”

Harry just shrugged. “Whatever.”

Gemma grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him out of the room, muttering as they walked out, “You and I need to talk.” Louis quickly followed them out the room which left Niall with Sophia and the doctor.

“I better leave for now,” said the doctor, and he left.

Silence was never this deafening and Niall couldn’t bear it. He was feeling guiltier by the second, like there was an unspoken crime that he had committed. “Sophia Smith?” he said and the woman turned to face him. “I’m Niall Horan.”

Sophia stared at him intently, her eyes were already red around the edges. “Yes, I know who you are. I’ve heard so much about you – not just from Liam but from Karen as well. She thought you were lovely…” Sophia bit her lip. “And I guess it disappointed her that you and my brother didn’t work out.”

“This is all my fault,” said Niall. “I’m–”

“It isn’t,” said Sophia. “I know this will sound rude, though I hope it won’t, but the world doesn’t revolve around you. Stop bearing everything like it’s your cross to carry. People make choices and whatever they may be are really just dependent on those who make them.”

“Yeah, well, screw that rule,” replied Niall. “I think it’s in my nature to bear everything.”

Sophia bit her lip. “On behalf of my brother, I want to truly, deeply apologize for what happened.” Niall was about to reply but Sophia continued, “I know what he did was beyond forgiveness but–” she quickly wiped away the impending tears, “–L-Liam is the only thing I have in this world, the only family I have…”

“Sophia–”

“S-so please, I’m _begging_ you,” Sophia could hold back her tears any longer, “don’t send him to jail for this… I-I can’t – I can’t _live_ with myself if that happened…” She slid down until she slumped onto the floor, tears welling up from her eyes. Sophia tried to speak but her words failed her, short phrases being the only thing she could manage. “Please, Niall…I…”

Niall knelt down in front of her and took her hands.

“I won’t, Sophia. I won’t.”

 

***

_ Three Years Ago. _

 

It was a busy first day.

Niall had no idea where his classroom was so he hurriedly weaved passed through the sea of students just so he could take a look at the name of each room. He cursed as he slipped through the hallways unnoticed, asking himself why he didn’t scout his classrooms the day before.

Yesterday… Where was he yesterday? Oh yeah, busy sulking in his room. It’s been a while since he went to Brookshire and now that he had moved there, almost permanently, Niall was trying to love it like he did when he was younger. But it was easier said than done especially now that his mom was in a hospital, clinging to dear life; Niall’s dad was at the house, trying to cheer him up; and then there’s that recent heartbreak concerning a certain brown-eyed lad.

There was so much conflict in his head, his entire being torn into different directions, that amidst the sea of prospective freshmen and higher year collegiate, he bumped into a taller figure standing still and against the current of the human river.

“Easy there,” the taller lad with curly hair chuckled. “Judging by the undeniable frenzy look in your eyes, I’d say freshman, right?”

“Yeah,” Niall replied, blushing.

“Well, do you need any help?” asked the lad. He quickly stuck out hind hand. “Harry Styles, by the way. Sophomore. Business management.”

Niall’s eye lighted up. “Niall Horan. I’m in business management too…”

Harry smirked. “Now that’s something.”

“What?”

“Just something my sister always says,” said Harry, demonstrating with his hand in elaborate swirling motions. “‘Fate is rarely lazy for things to be mere coincidences. A person walks into your life for a reason.’ Somehow, even though I try not to believe a word of it, her life quote always proves itself.” He grinned. “I hate it when she’s right.”

Niall blinked, then realized that Harry meant they met for a reason, and suddenly he was blushing all over again. “So…um…”

Harry, realizing the nervousness in Niall’s voice, decided to change the subject. “Now,” he clapped his hands together, “what’s your first class today?”

“Right,” Niall huffed, pulling out his schedule from his notebook, “um, I guess I have Basic Economics with…Professor Black?”

Harry snapped his fingers. “That’s at the other building.” He grabbed Niall’s hand, to the blonde’s surprise, and dragged him through the crowd. “C’mon,” Harry smiled, “I’ll show you. And when you have a free period, I can show you around. Just look for me in the field, yeah?”

Somehow, Harry’s charm had Niall flustered. “O-Okay,” he managed as they dashed through the crowd, people glancing at who those two boys were, running past the hallways – one smiling and the other blushing like Rudolph’s big red nose.

 

With Harry’s charm, and simply because it was the first day of classes and he was a freshman, Professor Black decidedly let him off the hook for being late for five minutes. Apart from guys winking at him and girls giving him unwelcome stares, Basic Economics was fairly good. All the talk about surplus and deficit rallied in his mind that Niall completely forgotten about what transpired a few months earlier.

The class was over by nine and Niall headed for the field. Students littered the grounds, getting themselves soaked in the rare sunshine of London. He scanned every face walking past him and sitting on the grass but there wasn’t a sign of Harry anywhere. Disappointed, he got a spot underneath a nearby tree and placed his headphones on, deciding to just read a book and forget that he almost made a friend.

But thirty minutes into the reading, someone tapped his shoulder and Niall looked up, surprised to see Harry offering him an apologetic smile. Niall took off his headphones just as Harry slumped down beside him.

“I’m guessing you were waiting for me,” said Harry. “And waited for a while…”

Niall shrugged. “A little bit.”

“Sorry about that,” replied Harry. “A friend of mine spotted me. I tried to get away but friends really have keen eyes when they need something from you. When they don’t, you’re invisible.”

“I’ve got fifteen minutes left,” Niall spoke abruptly, not knowing what to counter against Harry’s obvious charm. It wasn’t a crush or anything, it’s just that Harry makes him feel…well, star-struck. Harry gave off that aura of the knight-in-shining-armor and it was hard not to get flustered over that fact – the fact that Harry might or might not be a million leagues above him. “Sorry. I-I didn’t mean it that way…”

Harry chuckled. “No problem. So, what do you want to talk about ‘til then?”

Niall bit his lip. “Maybe some basics?”

“Alright,” Harry nodded, “so, um, where are you from originally?”

“Mullingar in Ireland.”

“Irish then? Ha. Got myself my first Irish friend.”

“My turn?”

“Yeah, your turn.”

“All the girls in Basic Economics were glaring at me…why?”

“That’s my fault, actually. They saw me with you.”

Niall felt nervous. “So, you’re the ladies’ man?”

Harry laughed. “God, no.” He ruffled his curly hair and threw an awkward smile at Niall. “To be honest, I’m no ladies’ man. I’m actually the sophomore virgin.”

If Niall was drinking something, he might’ve spewed it out right about then. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“It’s kind of a deal I had with my sister,” explained Harry. “I’m only supposed to give myself away to someone who will truly love me.” When he shrugged afterwards, he picked up a leaf that fell from the tree. “Call me crazy if you want but if I can’t find that person, then I’ll die a virgin death.”

“Wow.” Niall found it intriguing. “What kind of bet did you lose to your sister?”

Harry shook his head and smiled. “No bets, and she’s my older sister, by the way. It’s just that when I was younger, like, ten or something, my sister suffered from her first heartbreak. The guy was cheating on her or something…” Harry’s voice changed into a more melancholic one. “We’re pretty close so I tried to cheer her up, made jokes about her ex which made her laugh a little bit. She rewarded me with her own lecture about love. Ten year-old me didn’t quite understand all her metaphors about love while we were talking, but I did manage to promise to her that I won’t make the same mistake as she did – that is, giving everything you have to someone who’ll eventually change their mind.”

“I guess that’s the thing about love,” said Niall bitterly. “Blind as hell.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “She was fifteen back then.”

 

***

The hallway of the hospital wasn’t that empty but Gemma’s voice was bouncing loudly onto the walls. With Harry’s arm in one hand, she dragged him into a secluded corner and was extremely furious as she huffed out, “What is your _problem_?”

“Nothing,” replied Harry coldly.

“Harry Styles,” bellowed Gemma, “mom didn’t let us grow up to be like this! I know this is all too much, discovering certain things like that, but I think this little infatuation of yours with Niall has gone far enough.”

Harry scoffed. “Infatuation?”

“Don’t lie, Harry,” gritted Gemma, “for heaven’s sake, just don’t. I know you’re hiding something all these years and it’s manifesting right now. Everyone else may be blind to it but not me.”

Looking away, Harry remained silent.

“Harry,” his sister’s voice was softer, “just tell me the truth: are you still in love with Niall?”

There was a light sound that came from Harry’s throat; wincing, he then turned to face his sister. It was a silent conversation but Gemma ultimately dropped her hold on Harry and closed her eyes. There was disappointment in her expression, Harry could see it, and when she opened her eyes again, it was much more painful.

“Then what about Louis?” she weakly whispered. “Harold, what are you doing to that boy if you’re still in love with someone else?”

Harry’s lips were shaking. “I–” He couldn’t form the words.

“Is Louis just a rebound to you?”

“No!” said Harry hastily. “I-I lo–”

“Love him?” scoffed Gemma. “How can you love him if you’re still in love with Niall? Help me understand the situation, Harry, because this is getting out of hand. I’m not going to let that lad’s life go to waste because he turned out to be a simple fling!”

“He’s not a fling!” cried Harry out desperately. “I-I’ve never felt anything like what I’ve felt with Louis. He’s–”

“Then choose,” said Gemma, holding Harry’s hand in hers. “Only one, Harry. You can’t have both of them. Which would it be, the one who holds your heart or the one whom it’s beating for?”

“Gemma?”

Both Styles turned their heads to catch Louis walking innocently towards them. He was again fumbling with his fingers, perhaps because of nervousness, and spoke once more when Gemma didn’t reply.

“Niall wanted to talk to you,” said Louis. “It’s about Liam’s sister?”

“Alright,” replied Gemma, glancing at Harry, “where is he?”

“Back in the waiting room,” said Louis. “He wanted to talk to you alone.”

Harry’s blood ran cold. He can’t be left alone with Louis – at least not right now. There was too much guilt and conflict in his heart and soul to even bear standing near Louis. It would drive him mad given the fact that whether or not it was intentional, he was lying to Louis altogether.

Hesitantly, Gemma left for the waiting room, leaving Harry alone with Louis. Harry tried to swallow down any amount of fear that he had and took a good look at Louis: He was so innocent about the dark secrets surrounding the people who have given him a reason to stay.

“You were pretty angry back there,” started Louis, glancing at Harry nervously. “Are you okay now?” When Harry didn’t reply, he nibble at his bottom lip and pressed onwards. “I’ve been talking to Liam’s sister and it had turned out that Liam’s been frantic for months now. He doesn’t sleep most of the time and she’s worried that it would take a toll on him soon enough.

“So when the opportunity came – their father’s small company wanting to settle a business deal here in Brookshire – Sophia took the chance to take Liam away from the city and have a breath of fresh air. But, as you already know, that plan backfired and Liam’s worse than before. She blames it all on herself but I don’t think that’s fair because–”

“Would you have forgiven him?” Harry asked ominously.

Louis was taken aback. “Forgive who?”

“If someone has done you wrong,” said Harry, “will you forgive them, no matter how painful they have hurt you?”

Louis smiled slightly. “You remember what I told you, Harry? I’ve been meeting people for a while now in my travels and I’ve found that every person is their own, every one of them unique. So it doesn’t matter to me whether or not they’ve hurt me, I respect them for who they are. I don’t bear grudges because that’s just how this world works: it’s either a win or a loss – there is nothing in between.”

Harry could feel his lips trembling. “Why are you so kind?”

It was almost too unbearable when Louis walked up close to Harry, tiptoed, and pressed a long, soft kiss on his lips. Harry could feel Louis’ lips trembling too. But there was also a different kind of emotion welling out of Louis that spoke silently as his hold on Harry’s shirt faltered.

“Life has taken away all the pride that I have by taking away the things that were most precious to me,” said Louis. “I’ve learned at a very young age that you can’t have everything in this world, and this wretched universe has all the right to take and give things to you when it pleases. I’m just a tiny grain of sand in a mile-long beach, Harry. With that in mind, I should be grateful that I’m still alive even if things don’t really go my way.”

“So, basically,” Harry mumbled slowly, “you think Niall should forgive him?”

Louis shook his head. “I’m not Niall. My philosophies are of my own and sharing them is only a mere influence. The real decision is up to the one who has to make it, and that’s Niall. Whatever I think about the situation is irrelevant. I’m a simple observer, watching in the sidelines of it all.” He bit his lip. “And I think, it’s time for the observer to make his exit.”

“Wait, what–”

“It’s irrelevant as well for me to stay here, Harry,” said Louis. “My humble host is at a crossroads in his life and my presence is a mere nuisance. I think it’s time for me to leave Brookshire.”

“No,” said Harry sternly. He grabbed Louis’ arm. “What about us?”

“What _about_ us, Harry?” replied Louis. “We met for a few days – you can’t be serious that you feel something deep for me already. That’s impossible.”

Harry gritted his teeth. “It’s not impossible for me,” he stated firmly. “You just told me that every person in this world is unique so _treat_ me as such. I’m unique because I love you already. I don’t know how and don’t even ask me because I just do.”

The words weren’t left secret in Louis’ mind. “If you love me then why do you still love Niall?”

“You–”

“Y-Yes, I heard it, Harry,” answered Louis. “And Gemma was right: you can’t have both of us. I don’t think that’s fair for anybody. So I’ve thought that maybe this was the reason why I wasn’t meant to stay here for long – or in any place for that matter.” Louis scoffed at himself, feeling stupid. “I guess that’s just me, so easily attached. I’ve been a vagabond for so long that I crave something that’s impossible for me to have.”

“What if I told you that I love you more than I love Niall?” insisted Harry.

Louis smiled humbly. “That’s very flattering and such, but I don’t think you’ll be happy even if I chose to stay.”

He flipped through the pages of the book Gemma had just returned to him when they arrived at the hospital so early in the morning, and pulled out a tarot card with a tormented woman in agony on a window above a door-less tower. “You see this?” Louis held it out to Harry. “I got this when I was in Athens. Though I never believed in fortune-telling, I think I’ll believe in this one.”

Gently, Louis placed it on Harry’s hand. “It’s called _The Damsel_ and it says that I will meet someone who will undergo a great conflict in their life, and that someone will have the heart of the person I will hold dear in their hands.” With his blue eyes, Louis pierced a gaze against Harry’s green orbs. “Niall will always have a special place in your heart, Harry, and I can’t compete with that. Only sluts try and strive to win that kind of war, and I’m not a slut to do so.”

There was only silence for Harry could not find any words to suffice, fill in the reason for the impending crevice of torn-up hearts. “Keep it,” whispered Louis. “I’ve done my share of the fortune-telling, now do yours.”

Louis hesitated for a moment but tip-toed once more to catch Harry by the lips. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he pulled away. “I’ll never forget any of this, Harry Styles. Thank you for being a part of my life – even if it was just for a moment.”

Harry was frozen, fixed into place that his limbs weren’t able to reach out a take a hold of Louis as he walked away down the hall of the hospital. He stared as Louis disappeared into the distance and only felt his shaking knees when he abruptly knelt down on the floor.

“Harry?”

Turning around, Harry saw Niall standing behind him, eyes full of query as to why he was kneeling on the hospital floor in such a manner. Harry forced himself up, brushed away the tear which he didn’t notice until now. “Yeah?” he asked Niall, struggling to keep his tone from quivering.

“Are you alright?” asked Niall, walking towards him.

Was he alright? Louis Tomlinson just stepped out of his life and would he answer the question “was he alright” with a resounding yes? Of course the answer would be no but he couldn’t let Niall see that – or could he? Perhaps it was time that he told him the truth: that there was more than meets the eye to what he was to him.

It felt like the whole world was starting to crush Harry bit by bit as the truth slowly rose up from within him, a bubble of both fear and doubt rising to the surface. Once this was done, there was no turning back.

“I love you,” Harry whispered. “But, damn it, Niall, it’s making me lose more than I can have.” He reached for Niall’s hands, hoping to hold them one last time if the inevitable would happen. Harry closed his eyes, wishing that this was all a bad dream. “No, I’m not alright: I’m torn between you and someone who has stirred me up in an instant. This changes everything, I know, and I’m not asking for understanding.” When he opened his eyes again, they were watery. “I’m only asking for one thing for you to answer: how can I un-love you?”

“You can’t,” answered Niall calmly. “Then again, you can choose.” Niall smiled and stroked Harry’s cheek. “I’m not the one who should be holding you back, Harry. You’re not asking for understanding but I understand well enough that he’s so much better than me.” A low chuckle rumbled in Niall’s throat. “Is it really that hard for you to decide, Styles? Choose him, for heaven’s sake.”

Harry was at a loss for words. “Niall…”

Niall punched him playfully on the shoulder. “Go. Chase after him. Fix this because if you don’t, I swear to God, Harry Styles, I will kick you in the groin _so_ hard. Murder you, perhaps.” There was a gleam in Niall’s eyes. “Don’t let Louis leave – tie him up, if you have to. Just…explain to him and convince him to stay.”

“He’s pissed off with me,”

“True,” Niall considered, “but he’s too sweet not to forgive you.”

With a light shove, Niall pushed Harry down the hall. “C’mon, Styles, you’re wasting time!”

There was a slight pinch in Harry’s heart as he sped up, glancing at Niall who was smiling at him as he ran away.

 

***

_What am I doing?_

Louis began querying himself as he stuffed his neatly folded laundry into his old bag. This scene seemed so familiar – very much so because it happened every time he moved to another place. Perhaps he was _meant_ to be a traveler, no permanent residence whatsoever, because he always got so attached that he didn’t want to let go.

Aside from Athens, Brookshire was the second time he stayed at one place for more than two days. The place just drew him near – the trees, the leaves, the wind, the lights, and the people: they all did. Just like how the pantheon of gods now left as rubble had been so inviting.

“Fuck,” he heaved a heavy sigh out of his chest. Louis rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Time to leave now, Lou,” he told himself, “and please, don’t get so emotional. Get your shit together – it’s the only way. You don’t belong here…”

“Yes, you do.”

Harry was by the door of the bedroom, gripping and leaning against the knob while panting heavily. _D-Did he ran all that way to stop me?_ Louis’s heart raced and thumped harder, like a large drum booming ferociously in the silence of the night. His eyes widened as the realization became clearer to him: Harry was _here_. Harry chose _him_ over Niall. That was enough to make him want to run and press himself against Harry’s warmth – but he was scared.

“Why are you here?” Louis returned to packing his things, holding back the tears that were starting to sting his eyes. “I–” The mewl that threatened to come out of his lips were suppressed, fingers curling around the last piece of clothing to be stuffed into his bag. “I already said goodbye, didn’t I? My words were clear, Harry. There is no intention from me whatsoever to play the third wheel. None. And I would very much appreciate it if you would stop–”

“Making this harder for you?” Harry interjected. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“ _Why?!_ ” Louis screamed, throwing the shirt he was holding at Harry. “Of all the things you could do after what happened, you’re still here, stopping me, convincing me to stay. I want to know why, Harry!”

With a calm expression, Harry sighed. “I told Niall the truth.”

Louis’ voice cracked. “A-And?”

“He said he’ll kill me if I let you go,” replied Harry. “And I’m not planning on dying any time soon. There might be plenty of fish in the sea, but fuck it all, Louis,” he swiftly grabbed Louis’ wrist, “you _are_ my sea.”

“That’s imposs–”

“Impossible?” Harry managed to come up with a mixture of a laugh and a scoff. “You’re this wise vagabond who _listens_ to tarot cards and I’m the twenty-four year-old virgin who’s torn between two things – rather _was_ torn. I hardly believe that this is the time to bring up whether something is impossible or not.”

Louis was about to speak, say something to push the conversation further, but Harry put a stop to it. Their lips collided with one another in a quick fashion, rendering Louis unable to do anything but feel Harry’s chapped lips against his; feel Harry’s hands gripping his waist and pulling him closer until their bodies pressed against each other. Before long, Louis’ lungs felt like they were burning from the inside out, screaming and wanting for air. And as they pulled away from each other, barely inches apart, Louis got a glimpse of Harry’s green eyes not clouded but clear and honest.

Harry’s lips brushed against his once more and Louis gasped. “I love you,” whispered Harry. “I’m a bit of a moron for being selfish but is there any chance that you will love me too?”

It was a question in which there was no easy answer. Even a three-lettered _yes_ seemed hard to utter that what’s left was to remain speechless and stare steadily at the questioner’s eyes; and as pleasing as they may be, Louis found it hard to breathe. _H-He loves me?_ It was a sentence made up of three words and yet its effect was simply astounding in nature.

Furrowed eyebrows, Harry stared. “Louis?”

“The damsel in the card wasn’t Niall,” said Louis.

“What?”

“The damsel in the card,” reiterated Louis. “It said that I will meet someone who will undergo a great conflict in their life, and that someone will have the heart of the person I will hold dear in their hands.” Louis scoffed. “I was wrong to think otherwise – that the person being told in the card was someone else – and I didn’t even bother looking at the mirror to see that that very person was staring at me all this time.”

“I don’t get it,” muttered Harry. “Sorry, I don’t do riddles…”

“It was me – the damsel wasn’t Niall but myself,” stated Louis.  “The conflict was against myself: about whether I would keep running or stay put, about whether or not I will take that leap of faith.”

“And will you?” asked Harry.

Louis stared at him.

“Will you take that leap of faith, Louis?”

Louis’ lips parted. “Yes.”

 

***

_ November 23rd. _

 

Liam woke up to a face he only saw once – or maybe twice.

Carrying a basket with him, Zayn was sitting on a chair beside the hospital bed. He was just as surprised as Liam was when their line of sights met. There was surprise, fear, and panic all at the same time in Zayn’s mind, thinking that Liam might go looking for Niall and end up having another panic attack if he doesn’t find the blonde’s presence.

“H-Hello…sir,” Zayn greeted timidly.

Liam grunted, elbows pushing against the mattress to sit himself up. “Zayn, right?” he asked and the raven haired lad nodded silently. Liam’s brown eyes scanned the room for any more human presence but it appeared that it was only Zayn. “Where’s Niall?”

Considering for a moment, fingers drumming on the side of the basket he was carrying, Zayn explained, “He’s in London, applying for the next semester of classes. And before you ask, your sister went with him. She said something about transfer of titles?”

Liam smiled. “Ah, yes, that. At first she didn’t agree but I guess she managed to push through with that decision of mine.”

“May I ask what decision,” Zayn paused and quickly added, “ _sir_?”

“Transfer of titles,” said Liam. “I’ve decided to place the company and a large portion of my inheritance under her name, under her care. That way, Sophia can keep an eye on it. She disagreed with it when I told her because it would strip me of all powers but I pointed out that I was in no condition to handle that much work…given the state of me as of the moment.” Liam paused and then smiled, glancing at Zayn. “You don’t need to call me _sir_ though. I hardly think that’s appropriate. _Liam_ will do much fine.”

Zayn gulped. “I-If you insist…”

“And please don’t be scared of me,” requested Liam. “I’ve done horrible things, I know, and for once I would like to forget that I’m a monster in human flesh.”

There was silence, perhaps it was supposed to be so. Only the droning of the air conditioning filled the room and Zayn stood up, placed the basket on the bedside table, and pulled out a croissant and a Danish and placed them on a small plate that also came out of the basket. By the third time Zayn dug into it, he pulled out strawberry jam which made Liam wonder if the basket was a bottomless pit.

“Niall asked me to bring you these,” said Zayn. “These were your favorite, he said, especially the strawberry jam.”

Liam smiled and a single tear ran down his left cheek. Zayn began to be alarmed but Liam held up his hand and assured him it was nothing. “I’m just happy, that’s all,” said Liam as Zayn slowly sat down the chair again, watching him closely. “I’m just _so_ happy that he still remembers the old me even after all this time.”

Zayn placed a knife and a fork on Liam’s lap and shrugged lightly. “It’s really dumb for me to say it when it’s plain obvious but, anyway, he loves you, that’s why he remembers.”

“You really think that?” Liam took a bite of the Danish.

“Personally, I do,” replied Zayn.

 

The rest of the morning went by quickly before Zayn had to excuse himself to return to the coffee shop. He promised to return in the evening because Niall still had orders regarding bringing Liam his favorite food. The man on the hospital bed had to laugh to that, saying it’s ridiculously sweet, and Zayn just shrugged once more and told him that perhaps that’s what love was: unconventional.

It was about two in the afternoon and Liam was all alone, eating the rest of his lunch while watching on the television installed in his room. His phone was constantly beeping with all the text he had from Sophia, updating him on how the whole transfer process was going, and he glanced every once in a while to see if there was anyone aside from his sister that texted her – apparently not, so he just continued to watch the boring drama on some channel he forgot the name of.

That was until someone knocked on the door.

At first he thought it was Zayn already – he really did – but instead there was a pair of green eyes peeping through the glass of the door which cast a strike of fear into his chest. Liam swallowed thickly and his breathing labored as Harry went into the room. _He’s gonna kill me_. Harry walked in slowly towards him and Liam thought he deserved whatever Harry was about to do to him. He only wished he was able to see Niall one last time––

“Haz, don’t spook him off,” spoke the unnoticed person behind Harry.

There was a slight mumbling from Harry but nevertheless, he turned and slumped on one of the chairs that was as far as possible from Liam. The person who came with Harry however smiled at him and offered his hand. “We never officially met but I saw you at the restaurant with Sophia,” said the person. “I’m Louis Tomlinson.”

How odd it was, thought Liam, that this person was so calm around him. Louis reminded him of Niall – only, admittedly, a bit smaller and clearly more level-headed. Before long, being lost in his thoughts, Liam noticed that he hasn’t returned the favor and quickly shook Louis’ hand.

“Liam Payne,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank him, _dumbass_ ,” interjected Harry, glaring at Liam.

Louis waved him off, giving him the same glare. “Harry, be nice.”

Liam blinked. “I-I don’t understand–”

There was a loud groan from Harry, more than possibly because of annoyance and distrust, before he said ever so bitterly, “He’s the one who saved you, _dickhead_. Louis jumped into the river and pulled you out just in time before you drowned. I really wished he hadn’t but, seeing that Niall was crying, he went on a desperate attempt to save your life–– _OW! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!_ ”

Harry rubbed the side of his head where Louis punched him with his knuckle. “You’re the one being a _dickhead_ here!” shouted Louis. “For heaven’s sake, Harry Styles, be civilized for once…”

“I was just pointing it out,” said Harry.

“Well, you could’ve been less mean!” countered Louis.

It made Liam smile: Partly because he found it funny that they bickered like an old married couple, and also because it felt weird – no, not weird, _different_ – that love like what he’s seeing with his own two eyes exist. There was hope for him to brush away the past that seemed to haunt him until his death, Liam told himself.

While the two guests were arguing considerably, Liam thought to make _the_ decision. He closed his eyes and let Harry’s deep grumblings and Louis’ high pitched counters drown away the rest of the world. There was a deep internal sigh and he opened his eyes again.

He needed more convincing.

 

Before they left, Liam had a private conversation with Louis. Of course, Harry left them to it, mumbling something about getting food from the vending machine and blushing after Liam apologized and thanked him for visiting:

 

_“He’s just a bit of a dickhead,” said Louis. “I don’t get it why he’s so stubborn and yet his sister’s the go-with-the-flow kind of person. I guess it doesn’t run in the family.”_

_“Thank you,” said Liam. “I couldn’t say this enough, but, thank you for saving my life. I’m forever indebted to you.”_

_“You can start paying by telling me what are your plans with what’s between you and Niall,” replied Louis indifferently. “The both of you are in a situation most people try to avoid. What are you gonna do now?”_

_“I’m working on it,” said Liam, giving Louis a weak smile. “Honestly, I know it’s not easy building everything back up from scratch. There’s too many wounds, Louis. I’m afraid the scars will leave a grim reminder to the both us that we’ll be afraid to try again.”_

_Louis nodded but then smiled knowingly. “Yes, I guess it is hard, probably_ too _hard to be even built up again. Being with Niall for a couple of weeks though made me see the kind of person that he is and I can tell you now, Liam, all you need is to talk to him – let him in.”_

_Liam looked away. “I-I can’t,” he whispered softly._

_“You’re too scared, aren’t you?”_

_“Hell, yes,” replied Liam exasperatedly, nodding. “I know the kind of person that Niall is – I saw that when I woke up to him that morning in this bed – but I’m more afraid of myself than anything else. What if I hurt him again?”_

_Louis blinked. “_ Will _you hurt him again?”_

_Liam’s lips shuddered, perhaps of fear. “No…I can’t do that to him again but–”_

_“No buts and no excuses,” said Louis. “You love him, don’t you?”_

_Liam nodded._

_Louis smiled, patting Liam’s hands that were folded on top of the other on his knees. “Then that answers your question. It’s all the answer you need.”_

 

Liam was watching the festival outside as it started to get dark. The sun was bright orange on the horizon, beyond the old retro-styled buildings, and the sky was painted in a meme of watercolors. If this was what the last days of autumn truly looked like, thought Liam, then he wished it would always be autumn forever – everlastingly on the limbo between summer and winter, life and death. Liam leaned on the windowsill and stared down at the street: People huddled around in groups, laughing and cheering; the lit lanterns, embroidered with a burning phoenix, swayed to the whims of the cooling breeze; and the unusual sereneness of the setting was the calmest thing Liam has ever felt. On the brink of winter but not quite there – it does give you something to think about. On how this world survives every single time, its endless cycles never ceasing even when all humans did was destroy.

But perhaps there was something the world sees in humans that it chooses them to continue living. Either that or the earth just finds people amusing. With both notions, Liam smiled.

“Alone time working for you?”

“Yeah,” answered Liam.

Zayn had just entered the room carrying yet another one of those seemingly bottomless baskets. He placed it on the bedside table and sat down on the chair beside the bed, pulling out his phone from his pocket and resting it on his left leg.

Liam complied and sat down on the edge of the bed. It took him only this moment to realize that he had been wearing normal clothes all this time and not that patient’s gown he woke up in the morning after he tried to kill himself. “Did I dress myself?” he asked, more to himself, but nonetheless he was hoping Zayn knew.

“Niall did,” replied Zayn, realizing the confusion in Liam’s voice.

“Oh.” Liam blushed. “I-I didn’t – maybe I wasn’t awake.”

Zayn chuckled and stood up, pulling out the contents of the basket and placing them on the table. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed about that,” he said. “It’s just another conclusive proof that he loves you very much. He’s willing to take care of you, Liam, no matter what.”

Liam took that as a compliment, perhaps another hint that he should be so self-loathing at that point in time. He glanced at Zayn who was busy arranging everything and wondered why there were people who never try hard to please, and yet they were the ones who get loved by all who meet them.

 _He’ll never amount to anything_. The whisper resounded in his ear: Maura’s seething hiss of disapproval when she learned that Niall and Liam were together. _Do you hear me, Niall? Nothing._

His left hand began to tremble and Liam quickly took hold of it, trying to stop it from doing so, before Zayn noticed what was happening. But the shrills of discontent continued to ring in his ears and the tremor was enough to send a shiver down his spine – up to his head. It was slowly becoming unbearable, but he has to keep it in.

Liam felt Zayn’s hand on his. He looked up and a pair of soft hazel eyes were staring back at him, reassuring. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” said Zayn. “Just know that whatever it is you’re hearing in your head is over – it’s not real. Please…calm down.”

“I’m okay,” sighed Liam, the voices in his head slowly dying down into nothing more than a faint echo in the distance. “Thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” said Zayn with a grin. “Or else Niall will fire me.”

“Oh I doubt he’ll do that,” replied Liam, significantly calmed down.

Zayn nodded. “True. But you can never be too careful.”

They both laughed – a jolly and carefree laughter that it would seem to anyone else like they have been friends for a long time. And amidst the laughter, Liam took another good look at Zayn and wondered how he ended up in this sleepy town outside of London.

“You know, I never bothered knowing more about you,” said Liam.

Zayn shrugged. “It’s trivial.”

“But seriously,” insisted Liam. “All of you know about me, are tasked to – I don’t know – be like bodyguards to me? I think it’s only fair that you get the chance to express yourselves.” The way Liam’s eyes gleamed told it all. “Tell me, Zayn, was this the life you always dreamed off?”

It was just a question – but a serious one nonetheless – and yet everything seemed to rush back into Zayn’s memory as Liam stared into his deepest, into his soul. Was this the feeling Niall always gets when he’s face to face with Liam? It was uncanny, mysterious even, but effective. Memories of car rides and disappointments, of promises and dreams, came flooding in like a monsoon storm; and like a huge gust of wind, Zayn heard the voice of his mother.

“You really want to know?” asked Zayn.

Liam nodded. “We’ve got all night, right?”

“Alright,” said Zayn, handing him his dinner from the basket. “I’ll tell you.”

 

***

_ Three Years Ago. _

 

Another day, another one of those boring auditions. All Zayn wanted was to skate around town, draw up some graffiti with his friends, and maybe smoke – yeah, so long as his mother didn’t find out. He glanced at the driver seat of the car: his mother, Trisha, was driving silently. A result of their little bickering that morning.

“Why do we have to do this again?” mumbled Zayn.

When his mother didn’t answer, Zayn just rolled his eyes and stared out to the rolling meadows beyond the highway. There was nothing but green hills and light fogs in the distance, but that was until they zipped through the town Zayn was unfamiliar of.

Neon lights blinked, advertising second-hand books, and there was an old gasoline station in which they stopped for his mother to refill. Zayn got out of the car as his mother went to pay and took a good look at the town: it was sleepy and uninviting, and yet there was this certain vibe within it that was dormant. He can’t put his finger into it but slowly the uninviting town became inviting. Zayn became curious about it.

“Zayn, let’s go,” said Trisha. “We’re gonna be late.”

“What is this place?” asked Zayn.

“Brookshire,” replied Trisha, slipping back into the car and putting on her seatbelt. “Now, get in, Zayn. There’s nothing much to see here.”

They of course went on yet another audition but, sadly, even if Zayn got in, he didn’t make it to the final cut. His mother yet again had disappointment and frustration written all over her face. It was making her age faster, thought Zayn.

Zayn sat back down on the backseat of their car and stared at his motionless mother. “Mum?” he called out. Somehow he knew his mother would tell him that they’ll try again the next time, but he was getting sick of all these false hopes and the tired look in his mother’s eyes whenever he doesn’t make it. So he spoke up before Trisha could even reply. “I don’t want to go to auditions anymore.”

“What?” Trisha turned around. “You can’t give up now.”

“I’m not giving up,” replied Zayn. “This is just accepting defeat. I don’t want to be famous, mum, that’s _your_ dream. I wanna do art – paint, draw, and stuff like that.” He scooted closer to his mother, and Zayn looked her seriously in the eyes. “There are plenty of other ways for me to give us a better life. Fame isn’t everything. Can we just…for just this once…do this my way? Please?”

Tears prickled in Trisha’s eyes. “Zayn…”

“Don’t cry, mum,” mumbled Zayn, smiling, “or else I’ll start crying too.”

 

In less than two months’ time, Zayn had been working at a fast food chain in Bradford. He was waiting table at another restaurant at the same time. Five months have passed and they have been able to pay off any debt they had with anyone. Zayn was able to join an art festival once in Doncaster, auctioning off three of his graffiti pieces. Two of them were bought by a middle aged woman, interested in contemporary art, and the last one was bought off by a couple and their kids – four girls and one boy who was the eldest – who seemed very amazed at his piece.

Two more months in the fast food and restaurant, and Zayn and his mother were able to purchase a rundown two-floored apartment by the edge of town. The deal was pretty much sealed off quickly and they moved in, done some repairs with the money that was left, and now Zayn was wondering what to do next.

“Go to college,” his mother suggested, “or maybe arts school.”

But Zayn wasn’t so convinced that it was a good idea. He thought that conventional knowledge isn’t the only thing keeping people alive in this earth. So one day, as he was walking from the grocery store with his younger sister, he spotted an advertisement on the community bulletin board by their house:

**_NEEDED: CAFÉ CREW_ **

**_No educational level of attainment or professional_ **

**_skills needed. Must be a good people person and_ **

**_a hard worker._ **

**_Please call XX-XXX-XXX for more information._ **

****

**_Salary range negotiable._ **

 

Without telling anybody, he called the number and a man answered. He said he was Niall Horan and he sounded very thankful that Zayn took the time to call. Apparently there were very few applicants. It seemed a little odd at first for Zayn, thinking what could happen if he took the job, but then he asked where the café was.

“Brookshire,” answered Niall on the phone. “It’s a town just outside of London.”

Mummed momentarily, Zayn was left to think whether this was a coincidence, a cheap mocking trick of fate, or simply an opportunity that was hitting him on the face without him even feeling it. He already had a stable job – two jobs, actually – and they were living normally given their situation so was all of these worth the risk for something as vague as a job placement on a bulletin board?

“It’s not the most visited place on earth, I know,” continued Niall. “Doubt you’ve even heard of it. But every person who calls is worth something to me and my co-owner. There might not be that much costumers except for those who live here… Is a thousand a week alright for you?”

Zayn swore he just he shouted _shit_ right after the question.

“Are you alright?” said Niall’s voice.

The front door of the house opened and Trisha came in. Zayn glanced at the hallway and pretended not to notice her when she passed through. When she was out of sight, going up the stairs into her room, Zayn shakily answered, “Y-Yeah…fuck – _sorry_! I-I––a thousand a _week_?! Are you sure about that?”

“It’s not a scam, if that’s what you’re thinking,” answered Niall.

Trisha’s footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs and Zayn had to think quickly. There was no way his mother would let him go off on his own, and he could say the same thing about himself. When Zayn heard his mother call him, he quickly replied with a yes to Niall. The man on the other side of the phone seemed very happy with his answer and told him to have a meeting at the King’s Cross Station in London.

“Who was that?” asked Trisha as Zayn put down the phone.

“Some insurance guy,” replied Zayn.

 

The day Zayn left was more tearful than he had hoped it would be. The night before he and his mother had a fight about him not informing her about his plans. But as he went down the stairs, bag pack strapped on, Trisha was waiting for him by the front door.

“I’m sorry about last night, Zayn,” said his mother.

“My fault,” said Zayn. “I should’ve told you, mum. I’m sorry too.”

Trisha smiled. “At least you’re not washed up at twenty-one.”

“That was your worst fear, yeah?”

With a sigh, Trisha placed a kiss on her son’s forehead. “Come home every now and then, okay? And don’t work too hard. If they treat you badly, you can always quit and we’ll figure something out… I’ll always love you, Zayn.”

Zayn smiled as well, tears prickling his eyes. “I love you too, mum.”

 

The first few weeks in Brookshire wasn’t half bad. The coffee shop seemed pretty popular that even the mayor of the town had her assistant drive off every morning for a cup of coffee. He managed to get an apartment not so far from the shop along with his co-worker, Josh. They each had separate rooms and it seemed redundant since they both stayed up late and fell asleep on the living room couch watching late night movies anyway. Zayn had also taken the liking in visiting the library every weekend. The librarians, China and Kadie, were very eager to let him borrow novels and almost everything from the library.

His bosses, Niall and Harry, were a pair of eccentric people. Harry was more lenient than Niall but the latter was more hard working and serious. The crew consisted of Niall as the manager and basically everything else, Harry as the cook, Perrie as the evening manager and cashier, and both Zayn and Josh as baristas, waiters, and cashiers. It was a pretty tight schedule but once Zayn had the hang of it, the rest was a piece of cake.

A month and a half had passed and it was already December. He shyly asked Niall if he could take the rest of the week off, maybe take a vacation to Bradford and spend Christmas there. There was a prolonged silence, Zayn thinking Niall would say no, but instead, the answer he got was even more surprising.

“Why not spend it here with them?” said Niall. “My brother’s family will be coming over and so will Harry’s family. Perrie lives here and Josh as well. We’ll spend the holidays together. It’s the least I could do for my crew.”

“B-But you already pay me so much,” replied Zayn.

“No buts,” hushed Niall. Then he smiled. “The lot of you are my family now. Remember that.”

The snow began to fall at that point, just at the same time as a tear fell down Zayn’s cheek. In the hushed silence he pulled Niall into his arms and the blonde didn’t seem so surprised, returning the favor quickly and hugging him tightly as well.

 

***

_ November 24th. _

__

Liam woke up to the sunlight piercing through the blinds of the hospital room window. He must’ve fallen asleep after Zayn had told him his story. Grunting as he sat up, a figure stirred from beside him. Blonde and sleepy, Niall yawned and smiled lazily at Liam.

“Hi,” said Niall in a hoarse voice.

A slight grunting noise rumbled in Liam’s throat. “H-Hi…”

“I guess I fell asleep,” chuckled Niall. “I was waiting for you to wake up.”

Liam gulped. “Well…I am now.”

Silence was there to follow immediately and Niall, without thinking, climbed up the bed and straddled onto Liam’s waist. The lad underneath him was staring wide-eyed, and Niall swooped down and caught him by the lips. Shaky hands rested on Niall’s waist and he had to smile at that. He kissed Liam harder, fingers tracing the thin shirt that separated their skins from each other.

It difficult, particularly for Liam, to control himself in situations like this. He was still dumbstruck at how Niall was reacting to the whole situation that had happened. Most normal people would want him dead but Niall was here, snogging him to death like they’ve never had misunderstandings towards each other.

Liam’s fingers pressed onto the exposed skin on Niall’s waist and the blonde mewled at the action. “L-Liam…” he breathed as they pulled apart. _Shit_. Niall was staring at him, blue eyes shaded darkly. Liam cursed at himself. No, he can’t give in – not at this moment.

 _You have to tell him sooner or later_.

Just when all his walls were about to fall, Louis’ voice rang in his ears, and once again he took grasp of the reality of the situation. There was no escaping it and perhaps it was better if Niall wasn’t around to see it. Brown finding the blue, the earthen sinking into the crystal sea, Liam just kissed Niall again, hoping he didn’t notice the slight gleam in his eyes.


	5. Five

_“And in the end, we were all just humans…drunk on the idea that love, only love, can heal our brokenness.”_

_\- F. Scott Fitzgerald_

 

_November 27th._

**“It’s gonna rain.”**

Zayn was staring out the window, getting ready for work, when he noticed the grey clouds hovering the green meadows in the distance: sunlight streamed out of its edges, tracing out like a golden lining, but slowly the light disappeared and an overcast sky formed over the town; he grabbed his coat and wrapped up warm with his scarf. Josh was still asleep – he probably will be until ten – so he left him breakfast on the table and exited, carrying his umbrella with him.

Just as he had predicted, it started to drizzle when he opened the coffee shop; no longer than a few minutes later, Harry came in ruffling his slightly soaked hair. “Well, that was unfortunate,” mumbled Harry.

“Where’s Louis?” asked Zayn, tying up his apron.

“He and Gemma are still asleep,” answered Harry, hanging his coat in Niall’s office. “They were watching _The Princess Bride_ late last night… Honestly, I don’t know what they see in that movie – it’s so boring.”

Zayn smiled. “Hey, don’t be mean. I liked that movie.”

The rain stopped but the sky remained murky grey.

***

By noon it had started to rain again: Light showers drizzled down from the heavens like sugar dustings slowly falling onto a lemon meringue pie and the autumn wind sweeping it back and forth; and after an hour has passed, the rain became heavier, cascading onto the streets and creating puddles of water that splashed every time a car passed by or some kid under an umbrella jumped onto it with their boots.

Patrons of Mason’s huddled together in groups inside the coffee shop and though the busy part of taking orders and serving them was already over, the entire space was slightly damp to the feeling, cramped up, and cozy: A little girl was playing with her doll on the table, talking to her and asking if she wanted some tea with cream and sugar; her brother who sat opposite her was fogging up the window with his breath and doodled nonsense onto it; two friends were busy chatting about the new movie they had just watched and how hot the actor was while slowly eating away the two slices of mousse cake they ordered; a young man was sitting at the bar, slurping noisily his coffee and eyes firmly glued onto the e-mails he was reading on his phone; a woman, also at the bar, had her earphones on as she read hastily the novel in her hands, vapour from her coffee wafting lazily across her face; two lovers cuddled in a corner, giggling silently and happily as they held hands in the most cheesy way possible while sporting glittery grins on their faces; and an old couple sat at the table next to the lovers, the man reading the morning’s newspaper again and again while his wife was talking to him absent-mindedly, paying more attention to the tea in her hands rather than her husband, but they seem to understand each other as they conversed.

Zayn had already wiped up the bar twice, excusing to the young man and woman who seemed lost in their own worlds, but the rain still hasn’t stopped; Josh lolled his head lazily against the wall as he sat on the stool behind the bar, mumbling on about how he hated the rain; Harry was in the kitchen, already getting bored that he wasn’t actually doing any cooking; and Perrie was the only one busy, filing away paperwork into a systematic arrangement – as if they were honeycombs in a beehive – which she had been talking to Niall about a few times but had not managed to explain it properly _yet_ (seeing that Niall had been going back and forth from Brookshire and London for some unfortunate meetings about his studies).

“The day before the end of the festival and it rains,” muttered Josh, now busying himself with the games on his phone. It was child-like, he knew, but the afternoon was duller than a rusted knife that it seemed more serious than just staring at the ceiling until a new customer has arrived or some of those already there leaves. “I hope the fields will dry up a little bit tonight. I hate it when it gets muddy, it’s no fun watching lantern bonfires while your boots sink to the ground.”

Zayn glanced at him, eyes lazily watching Josh like an alcoholic on high. “Stop nagging. If it’s muddy then they’ll just do it in the town square.”

The rain abruptly stopped, the sun quickly peeping through the grey clouds like a kid playing hide and seek; showers of golden rays struck from high above the sky and onto the pavement outside and the wind began to blow once more. Upon seeing it from behind the bar, Zayn shook his head with a low chuckle.

“Interesting,” he muttered. “Ironically, this day hasn’t been.”

Then the door chimed.

***

The bus taking Niall back to Brookshire was empty.

Aside from himself and the driver up front, the last two other passengers have already gone off a few minutes before. Just as it was getting more eerily silent aside the humming of the bus’ motor, the sun decidedly made its debut for the day. At past one it showed up behind the clouds and, for some odd reason, Niall’s phone rang.

“Hello?” he asked, eyes still glued to the shimmering globe of warmth rising behind the towers of grey. “Niall Horan speaking…”

“Ah, Mr. Horan,” the caller had a low, raspy voice and was somehow enthusiastic upon hearing Niall’s name. “Perfect timing. I’m Henry Keaton from Ripson and Dules, a law firm here in London. Pardon me for being so abrupt but are you by any chance free for tomorrow?”

Niall’s eyebrows furrowed. “Exactly _why_ am I needed in London tomorrow?”

“To discuss certain things,” replied Keaton. “Like an order from Mr. Payne, for example.”

“Mr. Payne? _Liam_ Payne?”

“Yes, yes,” answered the lawyer quickly. “Mr. Horan, during the time in which Mr. Payne’s sister, Sophia, returned to London to take care of legal matters for him, he also asked her to instruct me of acquiring your coffee shop in Brookshire. He’s interested in developing it and, well, _incorporating_ it into the Paynes’ company.”

“W-What? W-Why?”

“ _That_ is a more sensitive matter,” replied Keaton. “Which is why we need you to grace us with your presence tomorrow. Give this number a ring tonight if you are available. A car will escort you to our office tomorrow if you will oblige. Have a good day, Mr. Horan.”

The line went dead, and Niall noticed that the bus had already stopped and he was already in Brookshire. He got up from his seat, offered the driver who was staring at him with an apologetic smile and jumped off, jogging and making his way towards Mason’s which was just a few meters away.

His head was throbbing when he opened the door. Every head in the filled up room turned their attention to him but he never wavered from walking. Zayn was telling him something but it was being blocked out by the thoughts running in his head. Perrie went out of the office to meet him but he motioned at her to go back.

“Niall?” Harry came out of the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” said Niall, sounding defeated. “But I need everyone in the office. Now.”

Harry was about to protest. “But the shop–”

“Won’t be robbed in broad daylight,” said Niall. “And besides, I just need to talk to you for a few minutes about something, that’s all…”

***

Sophia was glancing nervously at Liam at the backseat. He was reading a book he found in the one of the antique shops in Brookshire. In the silence Sophia wondered what Liam was planning, what his schemes were.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Liam suddenly muttered, eyes still glued on the book. “I didn’t turn evil, not by a long shot. There are things I’m not telling you, that is true, but I just didn’t want to scare you.”

“You scared me to death by jumping off that bridge,” replied Sophia.

“Touché, dear sister.” Liam nodded slowly. “I’ll tell you when we get back to the office.”

Sophia’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Office?”

“Yes. Office.”

“Liam…”

Liam closed the book he was reading and stared at his sister. “Please don’t be scared of me. I’m not going to do something I will regret again, let alone hurt Niall. That’s the last thing I want to do. So…do you trust me?”

The car had stopped and parked by the side of the highway, and the siblings stared at each other’s eyes for a while. Sophia was looking for something, some clear understanding about what was happening or a soothing answer to the premonitions she was feeling, and she found it in Liam’s brown eyes. She smiled.

“I trust you.”

Rushing through the highway, they drove out again, unaware of what was happening at Brookshire from the moment they left without a word. For at that same time, Niall was panicking, Harry was becoming suspicious of Liam once more, and Zayn stayed silent.

Why did Zayn stay silent?

Well, it was because Liam told him what was going on.

***

_“Surely you’ll think about this?”_

_“No. I’ve made up my mind. I’m not the one for him.”_

_“What’s your plan then?”_

_“Will you promise to keep it a secret?”_

_“Yes. But you won’t hurt him again, will you?”_

_“It might hurt, just a bit. But it’s the only way for him to forget me.”_

Harry placed down his phone on the countertop.

All the diners have gone home after an hour and they closed early. They have moved from the office and were all in the open space of the shop. There was a foul feeling in the air that had placed everyone in the edge. To Niall, Liam’s plans of acquiring the coffee shop felt cryptic. It was so abrupt that it didn’t felt planned at all, like it was some gut feeling or something.

But Harry, however, seemed pissed off once again.

“That was Lou and Gemma,” said Harry. “They just left the hotel where Sophia was staying. Apparently they checked out this morning right after Niall left for London. She got Liam discharged from the hospital early as well. The doctor was in disagreement but somehow Sophia managed to slip through that. No one has seen them here in Brookshire.”

He glanced at Niall’s blank expression. “They’re gone, Niall.” There was a pressing feeling in Harry’s chest that was telling him something was amiss. Ever so slightly he was trying to peer through the veil that was shadowing everything. “It’s like they never came here in the first place.”

“Maybe something’s wrong,” interjected Josh as he took off his apron and hung it on the hook by the kitchen door. “Or maybe something personal came up.”

Niall shook his head. “I’m not worried on _why_ they left. The thing I want to know is _why_ he suddenly wanted to buy this store. Yes, that was his initial plan _before_ we made up, but that was forgotten now. Liam told me that he was transferring all his accounts to Sophia so why the sudden mood change? If he was letting go of all he had, then why buy Mason’s now?”

“What did the lawyer say again?” asked Perrie.

“He said that Liam wanted to incorporate Mason’s into the company,” replied Niall.

“Doesn’t that mean he wants Mason’s to have a share in the company?” suggested Perrie.

Harry scoffed. “Why would he do _that_?” He began drumming his fingers on the wooden countertop. “This shop had only opened for more than a few years. We’ll be like ants compared to all the other shareholders of the company. Our capacity to go head to head with other investors is basically nonessential. Our share won’t have any effect at all to the company.”

Josh raised his eyebrow. “In English?”

“It means we’re a waste of space,” said Harry. “Which brings us back to the question of why would Liam consider having a waste of space in his company.”

“Because he’s dying.” Louis and Gemma burst into the room, panting heavily from all the walking. Louis took off his scarf and coat, and hung it on the coat hanger. “Gemma managed to talk away the nurse at the hospital to give us Liam’s medical files,” explained Louis. “Apparently, the post-traumatic stress disorder is the least of our worries.”

Gemma handed the cream-coloured folder to Niall. “The rest of the file is blotted out, suggesting that it’s been hidden by the hospital for confidentiality reasons, but I did manage to get information from the nurse that Liam was processing papers for an institute of some sort.” She glanced at Niall, looking upon his paled face. “It’s like he wants something to get treated.”

“How does that support the notion that he is dying?” asked Perrie.

“You don’t go for help from a doctor unless it’s something serious,” said Louis. “It’s human nature that we think we can take care of ourselves all the time. Liam wasn’t just _looking_ for help, he was seeking medical attention."

Out of the blue, Harry decided to chime in. “Louis told me before that Sophia noticed Liam acting frantic for months, giving her a reason to decide and bring him on a holiday trip that would perhaps make him feel better.” There was silence and Niall seemed to know where Harry was going: in agreement with Louis and Gemma. “But it wasn’t simple insomnia, was it? It was something worse and Liam was just keeping it in.”

“So you want him to die, is that it?”

Everyone turned their heads at Niall, catching the tears forming in his eyes. Was the world that harsh that even his friends were conspiring against him? Was it so hard for them to forgive? Yes, one would think that what happened was a terrible thing but he was okay now, why can’t they be the same? Is it harder for those on the sidelines rather than the one who experienced it?

“Ni,” said Harry softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way–”

“Didn’t you?!” hissed Niall. “You would’ve loved that, wouldn’t you? Him being gone?!”

“Niall, I already said I’m sorry…” Harry huffed, trying to calm Niall down but the blonde flinched away when he was about to touch him. “Please…”

“Am I that _stupid_ to all of you?!” Niall screamed. “AM I?!”

“No one’s saying that, Niall,” said Louis gently. “Calm down…”

“You of all people should understand me!” sneered Niall at Louis.

Louis sighed and tried to hold Niall’s hand but the blonde kept pulling it away, the constant flow of tears making it hard for Louis to look at him straight in the eyes. “I _do_ understand, Niall. Whether you believe me or not is up to you. I do not want him gone – none of us here does – and I’m not saying this because I’m siding with Harry.”

Niall pushed him away, all the images in front of him becoming only a blur. He choked down a broken sob and sloppily wiped away the wetness that had damped his cheeks. “But you are!” he croaked, loathsomeness seething through his voice. “You’re siding with him because no one here loves me!”

Harry felt a pang of hurt in his chest. “Niall–”

With all the air in his lungs forcing out of his throat, Niall gave out a shrilling scream. “BECAUSE NO ONE REALLY CARES ABOUT A SNOTTY, RICH ORPHAN LIKE ME!”

Like the raging winds of a monstrous hurricane, Niall was swept away by his own feet, dashing off into the streets in a blur. The door gave a loud racket, the bell swinging violently. All the souls left inside the shop were frozen in place, pinned into place with the reminder of how fragile Niall had been. But Louis was the first to unhinge himself from his position, putting back on his coat and scarf, and heading out the door.

He turned around and caught sight of Harry. They looked at each other for a moment and, with what seemed to be a silent conversation, Louis smiled as he gripped tightly on the edge of his scarf. “I’ll talk to him,” he said.

A shadow of fear brooded over Louis as he opened the door, as the chilly air blew against his face, but he shrugged it off. He took a good look at Harry’s green eyes once more and he smiled.

“I won’t lose another one again.”

***

_One Year Ago._

A bunch of children were dancing around a campfire, singing loudly under the starry sky and the blackness of the night. The moon was at a full gleam, shining palely as its ghostly light outlined the subtle waves beyond the shores of the beach. Embers burned and swayed upward along with the smoke, the fires burning flames casting shadows from the children that stretched into the darkness as they sang their little song:

 

_Oh, fair maiden, dance on with me_

_Twirl around gleeful in great jubilee_

_Under the moonlight on summer’s eve_

_When thoughts ‘n wishes t’was made to conceive_

 

_Sing, oh maiden, of the flowers of May_

_Dry-spelled winds and seagulls at bay_

_Hum of the dewdrops, sweet as the dawn_

_Sing of the morn and where it had gone_

 

As the children jumped around happily, a smiling figure sat a few feet from them, his feet half buried in the sand. He washed off the club sandwich he just ate with a diet Coke and stared vacantly at the merry figures going around the campfire. Though his thoughts kept on roaming over many things, the smell of smoke that wafted as the salty breeze billowed calmly kept him fixed on the cheerful song that echoed in his ears. Lightly, he left a dent on the cola can he had in his hand; and his grey-blue eyes then flickered, a touch of fear that lingered in his heart roused for a moment in the black abyss of his thoughts.

“Not today,” he whispered softly to himself, willing his mind to calm down and for the memories to creep back into the crevices of the long-forgotten. “You won’t ruin today.”

 

_Hear, o children, the little song_

_Hopes and prayers to us belong_

_Fear not the darkness nor the night_

_Feel the warmth, touch the light_

 

_The sun awaits us in the east_

_Where there is joy, and love, and peace_

_Beyond the moors is what lies in store_

_Sing, o children, sing some more_

 

_Doth walk the steps under fairy light_

_Twinkling overhead, shining bright_

_Down the road where no one has gone_

_At the end is the finish, at the end is our home_

 

With the song finally ended, the figure stood up just as the waves crashed onto the shore. The thunderous noise was ironically gentle as its echo drummed through the cove. The children started to disperse, heading back to their tents and two of them, two lovely little girls, came running towards the figure who was previously sipping a diet Coke.

“Lou! Lou!” the younger of the two girls spoke up. “Did you hear our song?”

Louis grinned and patted the girl’s head. “Of course I did, Daisy, it was cool.”

Daisy blushed and hugged her older brother, her head only reaching to his waist but Louis didn’t mind and just hugged her back. The other girl, who was named Phoebe and was also Louis’ sister, pouted her lips and pounced onto them, their brother giving a light _oof_ as they crashed to the ground.

“No fair!” exclaimed Phoebe. “I sang too!”

“Of course you did, babycakes,” cooed Louis softly. “You were great _too_!”

“Louis?”

The older brother, so calm and happy, turned to face the voice that was calling him but the scene burst into flames: the trees suddenly caught on fire, the children were running off into the sea but it also turned into flames, and the sky had turned into an endless parade of grey smoke that eclipsed the moon quite quickly. Louis eyes shot into every direction, looking for his two sisters who suddenly disappeared.

 

_Under the moonlight on summer’s eve_

_When thoughts ‘n wishes t’was made to conceive_

 

“Daisy?!” he shouted. “Phoebe?!”

There was another scream: “Louis!”

Once more he turned around and there was an earsplitting scream. Burning silhouettes of his two sisters came rushing towards him, their bodies lighted up and were sizzling with embers.

 

_Fear not the darkness nor the night_

_Feel the warmth, touch the light_

 

Their ghoulish black eyes sent a rush of fear through Louis’ spine as he stood frozen in horror. His stomach turned inside out, he felt like he was going to puke.

 

_Beyond the moors is what lies in store_

_Sing, o children, sing some more_

 

“Why didn’t you save us?!” the ghostly burning figures accused. They dived forward, rushing at a breakneck pace towards the frightened young lad. They screamed again and Louis thought he was going to die of the headache it was causing him.

 

_Down the road where no one has gone_

_At the end is the finish, at the end is our home_

 

“LOUIS!!”

In the darkness, and with a shout, Louis jolted upwards from the bed he had laid his head on. His eyes darted across the room, searching for flames or even his sisters. To his relief, the darkness did _not_ burst into flames and there was only a slight hint of moonlight from the open glass door of the balcony. Shakily, Louis stood up and was still catching his breath. He made way for the bathroom, turning on the light and catching that horrified look in his eyes still lingering in front of the mirror, and splashed himself a good handful of water on the face. Louis peeled off his shirt, all soaked up in sweat, and continued on towards the small balcony bare-chested, letting the ocean breeze tickle his skin. It took a bit to adjust to the darkness, having to squint a few times, but as his vision cleared Louis gazed down on the city of Barcelona — Placa Reial was filled with shining lights, perhaps there was a concert… It was summer after all; the ocean in the distance was littered with little blinking lights from ships anchored to the bay; and the Sagrada Familia’s gothic appearance was breathtaking — from the inn he was staying in, which was situated near a cliff.

What was supposed to be a two-day trip ended up with him already staying in the city for almost six days, and he had to extend his stay in the small inn to which the owner was glad to hear of. Not that he was complaining – this was perhaps one of his favourite cities.

His pale skin had turned into a wonderful tan but his eyes remained the same: greyish blue with hints of green specs. Whenever he looked in the mirror though Louis felt that he was getting older by the minute. It was only now that he was slowly gaining solitude and peace from his past, and before that was a nightmare at every turn. It had been almost a year and yet the hauntings were still as vivid as the night after his whole family died.

Staring back into the old city, Louis scoffed. Was this supposed to be his future? A life as a lonesome bag packer, a vagabond? He didn’t want to think that way but his future didn’t seem so bright after all. Money-wise he had no problem – he had a fortune, for heaven’s sake! But what is the worth of all the money in the world if you can’t use it to buy back those whom you loved? What is the use of money if it can’t turn back time, change the things you didn’t want to happen?

_Are you done running?_

Louis stared out into the darkness upon hearing the voice. But there was none in sight, not even a pale spectre floating above the dangerous cliff. Then he remembered and scolded himself for being so foolish. “Typical,” he muttered.

How funny it was to be mistaken by your own memories! It was just that morning while he was walking down the street to the local market that Louis spotted a small stall under a tree. Louis never was one to believe in magic, thinking that it was just a deceitful trick for the weak-minded, but with nothing else to do he took the opportunity to perhaps entertain himself with what he was sure of to be cheap and meaningless tricks. As he got closer, the woman sitting behind inside the stall looked up and smiled.

“What brings a young man to my humble stall?” asked the woman in her languid Spanish accent. She took out what seemed to be tarot cards and Louis began to be more amused. “Perhaps you have come to ask about your future?” she asked on. The woman tucked back her silver hair which was falling in front of her face, showing off her purple robe with pink sequins. She ushered Louis, motioning him to sit on one of the velvet-covered plush seats. “Sit, sit.”

Louis smiled slightly and then grimaced. “Actually, I don’t think my future’s gonna be bright so perhaps I’m not in need for any fortune readings.”

“Nonsense!” gasped the woman. “Details of the future are not fixed. People change their minds all the time, their freewill clouding every judgment that could be made about what is to come.”

“Yeah…” Louis replied unamused. “Listen, I don’t fancy so much as a–”

“What are you running from?” the woman suddenly asked.

“Nothing!” Louis sounded offended. “It’s none of your business.”

“Is it?” the woman challenged. “Of course it isn’t! But, oho, it is true, no? Ghosts have been chasing you since that fateful day!”

“How did you–”

The woman thrust onto the table separating them a deck of cards. “Pick four,” she ordered. She spread them over the table face down.

“I’d rather not–”

“You came here to entertain yourself, yes?” The woman gawked with a grin. “Then humour yourself with these cards. Pick four cards, laddie, they don’t bite…often.”

Seriously, thought Louis, what was this woman’s problem? But, fair enough, perhaps there was no harm done whether or not he picked four cards, right? And so he did pick four cards: the last one on the left, two which were beside each other, and the one in the middle.

The woman took the cards, removed the others and stashed them somewhere, and placed the four cards facing down on the table. She turned the first one around and it was an old man with a walking stick, sitting on a mossy rock. The length of his robe was just as long as his silver beard and there were ravens and doves circling above his head while a snake had wrapped itself around his walking stick.

“Our first pick: the hermit,” announced the woman gleefully. “You may be young but you have already gained the wisdom and emotion of those who have lived long on this earth to see its beauty and deceitfulness. Travelling from place to place you have gained solitude and peace in the sight of a world much different from your own.”

She turned the card around horizontally. “But as with all journeys, it must end at some point and that shall happen when you find the one true place that could take you and your past in and dispel that loneliness you’ve been carrying for so long.” The woman smiled and handed the card to Louis. “In short the place where you will lay your anchor down – perhaps for another person.”

If this was scripted, thought Louis, then perhaps it was best script ever written. He held the card closer to him and examined it briefly before the woman turned the second card around and revealed the two figures in the card.

Aside from the same border design, the card bore the illustration of two blonde children (or should he call them that?) in mint green sleeping clothes holding hands together which formed a cage around the golden goblet at the centre which poured out crystal clear water. Plants grew around them, at the children’s feet, and tendrils filled with leaves spiralled at the base of the goblet.

The woman pushed the card towards Louis. “Second card,” she said, “the twins. Good things will come to you – perhaps in twos. I must tell you that these cards don’t mean anything more than you can see. They depend on your conviction and will to lead your fate. Third card, mortem arcana.”

The third card was much less pleasant than its two predecessors: it bore the drawing of a rotting skull with ominous grey smoke that had green outlines. Below the skull was a pool of an oozing liquid that resembled snot and was purple on its edges.

“Death seems to be something that you will never forget,” she eyed Louis cautiously and the lad had to stop himself from rolling his eyes because that would be impolite. “But whether you get haunted by it or not is purely decision-wise. My advice is don’t blame yourself – it never helps.”

With the fortune-teller of a woman turning the last card around, Louis kept thinking if these _predictions_ that the woman was doing were true. And if they were, is there even a remote possibility that these might actually happen?

“Fourth card: the damsel.”

Rapunzel – or at least that who it looked like to Louis – with her long yellow hair as those of a corn was the subject of the last card’s illustration. The figure was staring out of the window of a door-less tower, perhaps daydreaming, and her hair was dangling from the window and down the walls which were covered in moss and vines that crept in between the crevices. A man – or presumably a knight – could be seen at the bottom part staring upwards to the _damsel_ who was oppositely looking down on him.

“You will meet someone who will undergo great conflict,” said the woman. “It is betrayal and something more. That person will be faced with the tragedy of love and all its concepts. But beware, he still holds the heart of someone you want for yourself. They are either an enemy or a friend.”

The woman handed the cards to Louis and one of them fell back to the table. “Oho!” the woman eyed the card - the damsel - gleefully. “Good things come in threes. But you’ll find disappointment where you will find hope. Regret is temporary, perhaps. But the choices are up to you.” She looked up at Louis. “Are you done running, boy? Will you let your past stop haunting you forever?”

With the wind blowing up a notch, Louis was brought back from his reminiscences. He was back again on the balcony overlooking the old city that was now half sleeping and half partying. He went back inside and the clock hanging over the door greeted him with both of its hands firmly plastered on twelve, and that was when Louis remembered that that day was the first day of May.

“ _Under the moonlight on summer’s eve_ ,” he recited quietly. “ _When thoughts ’n wishes t’was made to conceive_.”

Louis pulled out of his luggage a fresh shirt (and reminded himself to ask the inn’s owner where they do their laundry) and slipped back into bed as he put the shirt on. Head softly falling onto the pillow, Louis finally decided as he closed his eyes to come back to where it all started.

He decided to go back to England.

***

For some reason, Louis figured that Niall won’t be hiding in his house. After asking questions from some unsuspecting townspeople, Louis trekked towards a place of grey stone monuments, eyeless petrified cherubs and winged angels in flowing robes, and wrought-iron gates: Brookshire Cemetery after a downpour looked gloomier than it should be.

In the distance, atop a hill of earth and beside a bent oak tree, stood a shadowy figure in front of two tombstones. Louis quickened his pace, shoes dirtied by the muddy path, and the shadowy figured began to emerge as Niall. Pulling out his phone, Louis dialled a number and sent to it a message:

_Brookshire Cemetery. Come explain yourself to him._

Niall had his head bowed, his left hand gripping the top of one of the tombstones. As Louis got closer, he could hear the painful sobs from his newly-found friend. It was hard for him to hear it -- even as hard as it was being haunted by his past. When he was close enough, Louis mustered the courage to speak.

“Niall?” he softly said.

Wide-eyed and surprised, Niall turned around, instinctively backing away from Louis. It was not as surprising to Louis that Niall would react that way and so he quickly grabbed Niall’s hand before he could move away further.

“Why--” Niall was trying to shrug Louis’ grip on his arm. “Why are you following me?!”

“Because we don’t want you to get hurt -- or hurt yourself.”

“You don’t care about how I feel!” shouted Niall.

Louis’ eyebrows furrowed. “And why do you think that?”

“Because—” Niall hiccuped. “—because you don’t need me… You have Harry and he has you. I know Zayn’ll end up with Perrie, and Josh will probably find someone sooner or later. That leaves me with nothing—nothing but Liam…and…and…you keep on saying—” _hiccup_ , “—that he’s—” _hiccup_ , “—gonna leave me too…”

Without hesitation, Louis pulled Niall closer to him until their chests touched. He felt Niall shiver and Louis would admit that he felt the same: he was a bit scared. Somehow he didn’t want this friendship to go downhill just as much as he watched his family burn into ashes — these people were his family now and this place was the place where he’d lay his anchor down.

Louis hated to admit it but the fortune-teller woman was right: this place dispelled the loneliness and fear: Brookshire was where big changes happened and there was nothing to be taken for granted from that. He was predicted to hewn his anchor, his roots, down for another person and those people were Niall, Harry, and their friends—no, their _family_.

“I’m sorry if that’s what it sounded to you,” murmured Louis. “But honestly, it’s not like that. We’re telling you this because we don’t want you surprised or something like that when the time comes. I’m sorry if we hurt you, Ni, I really am…

“But I’ve experienced things like this before so I _know_ how it feels,” said Louis. There was something churning in his stomach, stopping him from saying anything, but the idea that he had now found his home settled it down. “My family all died when a plane crashed into our neighbourhood in Doncaster about two years ago. I was the only one who survived and sometimes I blame myself for it. I promised myself afterwards never to get attached too easily because I was never one who had much luck in having companions. That’s why I don’t want you to end up the same, Niall. You already mean so much to me…”

“Lou…I…” Niall, who apparently had somehow calmed down, sniffed loudly as Louis words sank into the depths of his mind. “I had no idea…”

“Niall?” said the new yet familiar voice.

Liam Payne was standing in his fine garment: his rolled up grey long-sleeved shirt was uneven and crumply, and the brown and yellow wool vest was a bit stuffy. But, even though he looked handsome, his skin was paler than usual, like he hadn’t seen the sun for quite some time.

In the distance, Sophia was standing on the muddy pathway in her boots, umbrella hovering over her head; the post-downpour wind made her velvety pink dress swayed lazily, typically matching the atmosphere inside the cemetery. She appeared sad, somewhat distressed about something that Niall couldn’t quite decipher. Was it really that awful, the sickness? Or was it because of something else entirely?

Louis glanced at Liam and, in a silent conversation, Louis slowly left, patting Niall lightly on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you two to talk,” he whispered to Niall. He went down the unusually elevated mound of earth and met up with Sophia on the muddy pathway. Together they disappeared into the pavement outside the cemetery walls and made a left turn, heading towards Mason’s.

“Shall we take a walk?” asked Liam quietly.

Niall only managed to nod and they took the same path as Louis and Sophia did. There was silence — and only silence — as they went down the wet paved lane, diverging from the main avenue that led to Mason’s and going past the little kiddie playground. The playground was empty — its plastic swings rocking lightly to the breeze, sandboxes soaked and grey, the slides were glistening with water on their surfaces, and the little castle at the centre was dripping wet — and Niall thought this was where they were going to talk but Liam passed by the gate uninterrupted. Though the silence was deafening, Niall took a stand to not utter a word until Liam said something — better yet, explain himself.

Past the playground was an unusually placed little garden — or one should say little _forest_. Dissecting through the centre of the garden of trees was a bricked path, brambles and grasses acting like fences to keep passersby within the path. It was an alternate route back into the main avenue, a shortcut of sorts that leads to the town square where they were going to burn the lanterns that afternoon. As they made their way under the bushy, tree-filled lane, Niall finally had enough of the unnecessary quietude. He stopped, forcing Liam to stop at his tracks as well and turning around instinctively to see if there was anything the matter.

“If you’re not gonna say anything, you might as well leave,” said Niall rather bitterly.

As the sun was setting, the dark clouds in the sky retreating to farther lands, its grey-to-orange shades pierced through the canopy of the trees and onto Liam’s face, casting over him an eerie yellowish glow. “I was thinking of a way to say things without hurting you,” answered Liam, his brown eyes turning gold as sunlight hit it. “But then I figured, just _now_ , that there’s no way I could get through this without hurting you. And for that I am already apologizing.”

Niall’s mind suddenly went into overdrive, giving every possible meaning to the words Liam was saying. Liam noticed it, however, and he grabbed Niall’s hands and held it in his. “Niall,” said Liam, “say you’ll forgive me.”

“I…I don’t—” Niall’s breathing had become erratic. “What—What’s happening?”

“I’m leaving, Niall.”

“Leaving?”

“Yes, leaving. It’s for the better, I guess.”

All of the sudden, thunderous applause echoed through the trees: It appeared to be coming from the town square. Liam held on to Niall’s hand, who was somehow outraged at his notion of leaving, and pulled him through the trees. “Let’s take this somewhere else… The park maybe?”

Niall didn’t answer, feeling already empty inside as the words sank into his heart. Liam was leaving? How was he leaving? There were so many synonyms and meanings to leaving that it could have meant anything from moving away to dying, the latter the one Niall was fearing the most. Perhaps Louis was right: It was better to break it to him slowly than dropping it all at once. The idea of Liam dying came up in his mind again and he felt his stomach swoop down a few levels, like he was going to throw up.

They finally broke through the shadowy tree-filled path and emerged into the town square — packed and full of people holding up their lanterns, each of which were a cylinder of flickering gold and orange like the setting sun on a warm summer dusk. Niall felt Liam’s hand squeeze his tightly and they waded through the see of people until they found an empty patch of space where nobody was standing and settled there.

The crowd was becoming restless, murmurs were slowly swelling up into chatter, and the autumn wind was tickling the skin of everyone in the crowd, making the blazing fire inside the phoenix lanterns flutter unceremoniously that the ones holding the lanterns were busying themselves trying to keep the flames from snuffing out from the playful gust.

A small stage had been set up on the front side of the town square, the podium that bore the seal of the town was situated at the middle, cords snaking upwards to the microphone that was stuck onto the top of the podium, and at the front of the podium was a symbol: a phoenix that had its wings spread out, stretching beyond the circle in which its body was encased into; tongues of flame came out of its crown as well as its wings, curling puffs of smoke made up its magnificent tail. At the centre of the town square were phoenix lanterns tied up together in a bunch, floating lazily in the chilly air.

Niall was waiting, unable to be patient to the fact that Liam was gazing elsewhere and seemed to have forgotten that they were to talk about something. As the mayor rose up to the stage with her big-bellied husband, carrying themselves their individually lit lanterns, the crowd compressed, straining to hear what speech the mayor had prepared for them that year.

The mayor began her speech but Niall wasn’t paying too much attention, she went on muttering about rather flattering words. “Blessings and a graceful year”…“fruitfulness”…“unity at the face of adversity”…“hard work”. None of these seemed to matter to Niall at the moment.

As the mayor continued on talking in her high-pitched voice, her extravagant ruby dress striped with orange and yellow bands swaying rather oddly, Niall felt Liam squeeze his hand again. He looked up, Liam smiling fondly, and returned it with a glare. Liam merely chuckled, pulled Niall by the waist, and held him close enough to produce a barely audible whisper in Niall’s ear. “Am I annoying you already, Mr. Horan?”

“Yes,” snapped Niall.

Liam curtly smiled. “Patience is a virtue, Mr. Horan, learn from that. It’s very wise.”

“I have little virtue as of the moment, Mr. Payne,” answered Niall smugly. “You’ve done me great service on that account.”

“Ooh, below the belt, Mr. Horan!” Liam grinned. “I thought you already forgave me for that?”

Niall turned blotchy red. “What are you _doing_?”

“Trying to lighten the mood, _babe_ ,” Liam purred, their faces barely inches apart. Each word rolled off of his tongue provocatively. “You’re so tense right now.”

“Liam.”

Laughing, Liam raised his hands. “Alright, alright. Calm down, Niall. I’m not gonna die or anything…”

Niall looked shocked, but the tension in his veins seemed to dissipate slowly. “Y-You’re not?”

“—so let us welcome the winter and the coming year with great hope and reverence! Lights up, everyone!” the mayor shouted gleefully as she gently forced her lantern up into the air, her husband followed, and soon enough, hundreds of lanterns began floating up the sky as the people in the town square followed suit. The group of lanterns at the centre of the square was lit up, burning instantaneously, and people shouted and yelled as the fires consumed the linen, giving off silvery smoke that billowed upwards to the sky.

Liam and Niall watched as the lanterns that were floating in thy were merely dots of yellow, like little flickering stars in the darkening sky.

“You know what I see when those lanterns burn up?” asked Liam. He turned to Niall as the golden linen lamps started to get caught on fire. It reflected in his eyes, like it was burning deep into his soul. “I see the past getting burned, leaving my life forever, and giving me the chance to forgive…and love again.”

“Liam…”

“I’m leaving, Niall,” said Liam seriously.

“You already said that…”

“Reiteration is for emphasis,” answered Liam. “And I repeated what I said because I mean it, Niall. I know it will hurt you — and it hurts me so much as it will to you — but I think it’s for the best.”

Niall swallowed thickly. “What is?”

“That we shouldn’t see each other again,” replied Liam, and the words were like a huge bolt of lightning descending from the sky and striking straight down onto Niall. The rest of Liam’s sentence was simply a blur to his hearing. _We shouldn’t see each other again_. What was he supposed to reply to that — that he was okay with it? That he would smile and shake hands with Liam and say hallelujah?

“No!” responded Niall.

Liam frowned. “Niall, you don’t understand—”

“Don’t understand what?” fumed Niall.

“How dangerous it is to be with me…”

Niall snorted. “What is this, fucking _Twilight_? You’re this weird, dangerous yet ridiculously handsome creature and I’m some palish damsel who’s an idiot for falling in love with someone so deadly? Well I’m not, Liam, so stop trying to scare me away because it won’t _happen_.”

“Is that so?” Liam’s expression hardened. “I’m unstable. I go through mood swings all the time; who knows what I’ll do to you. After my attempted suicide, I now have post-traumatic stress disorder. And for heaven’s sake, Niall, I _raped_ you!” The words seeped through Liam’s teeth like weeping poison, trying to throw a fake out at Niall, but even with Liam’s outraged look, Niall remained still. “Doesn’t that mean anything to you?! You _should_ be scared!”

The people surrounding them were somehow unaware of what was happening, having their eyes fixed on the burning lanterns. Niall moved closer agilely, leaving Liam surprised and letting out an sharp, audible intake of breath. “Is that all you have, all you can use to scare me?” said Niall. “I’ve seen death, heard lies, experienced hardships, and felt pain all throughout my life, Liam, so none of your mistakes can stop me from loving you. Because I do love you, Liam, and I never stopped doing so — faults and all.”

Liam looked at Niall incredulously. “Do you hear what you’re saying? I’m a hopeless case, a horrible beast. I can—” There was a pause, Liam grasping for something to support his notion. “—I can _kill_ you!”

“I, for one, am not an image of perfection,” retorted Niall. “And neither are you some monster out there killing people. You’re Liam Payne — scarred and delirious as much as I am. You say that you see the past getting burned and forgotten through these lanterns, believe in that.”

“It _has_ been burned and forgotten, Niall,” answered Liam, his voice was weak and helpless. “But I can’t stop thinking about the kind of future you’ll have with me. They way I see it, that future isn’t pretty.”

Niall could see in Liam’s eyes, could hear in his voice, that need and want to be happy and yet lingering within that was the fear that he wasn’t good enough and that he was already tainted by his sins. From the very start, even when they were younger and were just friends, Liam was steadfast in his decisions; once he had decided, there was no way you can persuade him otherwise. I was his flaw, noted Niall. A terrible flaw that had the side effect of having Liam not only to be unpersuadable but also a bearer of all the mistakes he’s done. He never forgets them and he never forgives himself for them. As time moved on, the cross he was bearing was becoming heavier and heavier; and now, Liam was practically kneeling to the ground as he continue to carry his excess baggage of grief and frustrations.

The crowd began to disperse around them, the lanterns all but burnt, and at last they were alone in the town square. In the fading murmurs and the impending silence, Niall slowly took Liam’s hands in his and smiled.

“I’ll miss these hands,” said Niall.

Liam remained motionless but his eyes followed Niall’s every move. His body stiffened as Niall stood on tiptoes, leaned closer, and kissed him full on the lips. An unusual fire spread through his veins and Liam melted into the kiss.

Niall pulled away, his nose nudging Liam’s intimately, and then he whispered, “It took me some time to remember how you were as a person but now I understand what you mean.”

“Ni—”

Niall kissed him again.

“Ever since we were kids, you were immovable when you’ve made up your mind,” said Niall. “And I can see that you have already done so yet again.”

Liam’s lips trembled. “Niall, I’m sorry…”

Niall tried to laugh, but in its place were tears. “I don’t know what book you’ve read on how to kill a nightingale, but I daresay it’s effective.” He meant it as a joke, but the tears wouldn’t stop falling and his voice couldn’t stop cracking. “I love you so much, Liam, but if it’s right to let you go, then I’ll do it. I’ll say goodbye if that will make you happy.”

“I told you I’m a monster,” whispered Liam. “I don’t kill literally but it’s just as painful and bleak.”

“ _No_ ,” croaked Niall, his hands holding the sides of Liam’s cheeks. He pressed their foreheads together, and looked into those brown eyes he will sorely miss one last time. “Don’t say that. I don’t care how you look, I don’t care what you’ve done. All I care about is that I got to look into your eyes for the last time without fear and hesitation because they’re the only pair of eyes that have the rights to steal my heart in my entire lifetime.”

“I guess this is goodbye then, Niall,” said Liam.

“I guess it is, Liam,” replied Niall.

They pulled away from each other, taking in the emptiness of their surroundings. Except for some people who lingered: Gemma was at the foot of the stage with Sophia and Josh who were talking to each other, and she was looking at them with a smile; Harry and Louis were at a stall, watching them with smiles on their faces; and Zayn was by the fountain kissing Perrie.

Liam noticed Niall smiling, and Niall quickly answered, “I think I owe Harry fifty quid.”


	6. Epilogue

_”You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view… Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.”_

_\- “To Kill A Mockingbird”; Harper Lee_

 

_Three Years Later._

**Dinner was spectacular** , as per usual.

Liam reminded himself to thank Ms. Forcible for the continuous assault of fine dining experiences every meal — be it breakfast, lunch, or dinner. As he sat there at the table, staring blankly as the baked sea bass on his plate, his fork lazily flaking the fish so achingly slow and almost torturously, he contemplated as well on how life was in his self-exile after three years.

His sister, Sophia, was the only one who knew the place beside a cliff, the only one who knew that there was an unpaved path that diverged from the main road, ran through the forest, and opened into an old manor that he and his sister inherited, having belonged previously to their mother, Karen. Sophia visited once a week with news from Brookshire and London. The way Liam saw it, his sister was more than capable of running the company but he felt guilty that she went off working hard while he cowered in the old, rusting house, lounging about all day, for mistakes he knew he was already forgiven from.

As his thoughts lingered on his sister, Liam’s gaze travelled from the aesthetically murdered fish on his plate and towards the folded peach-coloured letter by the side of his arm. He then remembered that Sophia was coming for a visit, probably telling him more details on that scandalous affair inside the company.

Finishing his meal right before Ms. Forcible — a short, lanky but sweet old woman with silver hair who served as his mother’s nanny when she was younger — knocked on the door and took the plate away, Liam’s thoughts were still on the letter.

“Miss Sophia just called,” said Ms. Forcible. “She said that she’s on her way.”

“Anything else she said?” asked Liam, for he knew that his sister was one to linger on and chat during a phone call.

“Yes, actually,” replied Ms. Forcible. “She said something about a surprise.”

Liam’s eyebrow cocked upwards. “A surprise?”

Ms. Forcible just smiled as she exited the room. “Sophia asked me not to tell you what it is. She said she wanted to see the look on your face.”

After the door had closed, Liam was still staring at the door. Ms. Forcible never conspired in on a plan — especially not one where Sophia was involved, and it intrigued him very much as to what his sister was planning. In the light of recent events, some of which were heart-breaking, Sophia had been constantly annoying Liam to the death about returning to Brookshire. Of course, Liam refused.

Eyeing the letter again, he grabbed it and finally read what was in it. Naturally, it was another letter from Niall delivered by Sophia a week ago and it was only at that moment that Liam mustered up the courage to read it as the other ones were far too tempting already.

_Dear Liam,_

_Your sister had been trying to persuade me to ask you to return to Brookshire. I will honour your wish though and I won’t even try to do so as she asked so please continue reading this letter. I just wanted to say hi and ask how you’re doing, even though you never reply._

Liam chuckled lowly. Perhaps he should apologise for that, but then again it wouldn’t be much of an exile if he _did_ reply.

_The truth is, the reason why I wrote to you hopelessly again is to inform you of things that have happened while you are away. Though I know Sophia has been telling you things. I figured it’d be better if I told it to you as well._

_First off, Harry and Louis are getting married by the end of the year. They bought an old house just a few blocks away from my house and have been living there together for a few months now. Also, they’ve successfully adopted Zahir._

The grip on the letter tightened. What had transpired a year ago was still fresh in Liam’s mind: A few weeks into September, there was a phone call that woke Liam up in the middle of the night. He got up lazily and went to his study table to grab his phone, answered the call and waited.

“Hello?”

“Liam…” a hoarse voice replied. “I-I can’t do it…”

Quickly recognising the voice, Liam felt a surge of panic in his spine. There was something ominous about the call. “Z-Zayn?”

“I can’t do it, Liam,” murmured Zayn. “You told me to stay strong but I can’t without her. You said to do it for Zahir but every time I look at him, I remember Perrie.”

“Zayn,” Liam tried to sound calm, soothing, “whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it. You have a _son_ , for heaven’s sake. You’re the only parent he has.”

“I don’t feel like a parent,” replied Zayn, hiccuping. “I hardly _know_ how to take care of him. He’s better of with someone else — maybe Harry and Louis…or Niall. Niall loves kids…”

“Please don’t think like that,” pleaded Liam. “Your son needs you—”

“I’m sorry,” cried Zayn. “I’m so sorry, Liam. Please tell everyone that I’m sorry. Please tell Zahir…”

“Zayn, don’t—”

The line went dead.

A week later, there was a letter:

_Dear Liam,_

_I wish you could’ve went to the funeral. I don’t know if Sophia had already told you but Zayn’s gone. Last week, he asked me to babysit Zahir. He said something about finishing some business elsewhere. I should’ve known by then, but I didn’t._

_The morning later he wasn’t answering any of my calls so I had Harry and Josh take a look. They—_

The line broke off, the ink trailing downwards as if the one who wrote it was having difficulty in writing, only resuming with a slightly different penmanship. There were blotches of what Liam presumed to be tears.

_They found him lying on the couch with sleeping pills on the coffee table. There were so many medicine bottles, Liam. I don’t know when he got them but… I just can’t believe he would kill himself. When I saw him, he looked like he was just sleeping._

Liam felt Niall need not describe it to him. He was _there_ at the funeral. He kept himself hidden, immersed within the crowd, but he was there. The morning after Zayn’s midnight call, Liam phoned Louis to ask what happened to Zayn. Louis could hardly speak, sobbing off every now and then. After he told Liam the news, Liam slumped back on his bed, said goodbye to Louis, and didn’t even notice that he was already crying.

“You _fucking_ bastard,” Liam whispered as tears ran down his cheeks. “ _Idiot_.”

Liam spent the rest of that morning asking — in the shower, while eating breakfast, and while walking down the beach below the edge of the cliff — why a warm, loving person would deserve such a fate. Why him of all people? There were plenty of others who deserve misery - why did it have to be Zayn?

Zayn and Perrie got married nine months after Liam had left for his self-exile. Another nine months later, they had a son: Zahir. But shortly after giving birth, Perrie died. Eclampsia, said the doctor. Ever since then, Zayn was often described by both Sophia and Niall to be hollow and passive. He hardly noticed his son.

So then Zahir would be adopted by Harry and Louis… Liam gave off a loud sigh and returned to the letter in hand. At least there were still people who will love and take care of the kid. He shook off the sad thoughts in his mind and focused on the letter which, Liam hoped, would bear good news rather than bad.

_Second, we have hired two new crew members: a guy named Andy and a college student, Selah. Josh is still staying strong here so he’s now the evening manager. He took the promotion a little bittersweet. In fact, we all did._

_Lastly, there is a request I would like to say. I know it’s a slim chance that you’ll say yes but in any account—_

There was a loud knock on the door and Liam jolted upwards. He stood up, fazed by the sudden ruckus, and the door slammed open with a Harry Styles in an overcoat huffing towards him. Sophia was standing behind him with a small smirk on her lips.

“Harry—”

“It’s time to end this nonsense, Payne,” growled Harry, grabbing Liam’s arm forcefully. “You’re coming with me.”

The surprise couldn’t leave Liam’s face as he got dragged out of the room. “W-Where?”

Harry stopped and smirked. Liam noticed that Ms. Forcible was hauling towards the front door all of his belongings in two large suitcases. Sophia handed him a coat, and before Liam could say anything, Harry leaned towards his ear.

“Brookshire.”

They left the house. But on the table by the window where Liam had been contemplating about his existence for three long years, the letter was left opened. On the last line bore Niall’s little request:

_It’s my birthday next week and I was hoping you’d come._

_Love,_

_Niall._


End file.
